


Haunted by History

by Jess_S



Series: Felicitas [14]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Highlander - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, Felicitas-verse - Freeform, Gen, League of Assassins - Freeform, Other tags to be added, Secrets, Unresolved Secrets Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-05-03 21:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 71,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_S/pseuds/Jess_S
Summary: Because what's past can't be forgotten.





	1. La Inquisición Española

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, again I feel I should apologize for how ridiculously long it’s been between updates. Some of my fics are faring far worse though—at least the writers blocks getting in the way here are only little blocks I can stumble over or smash my way through. Not the gigantic fortresses that are hiding some of my other stories inside of them…  
> Anyway: YES, this is the next story, so yay! Yay, right?  
> I’ll try to update relatively regularly. I do have some of this pre-written now. The next scene, at least, shouldn’t take too long, so hopefully it’ll be ready by next week. In the mean time, enjoy the start of the story!

Revised 5/11/18. (Just a few words changed, nothing major: grammar, diction, dialogue, etc.)

* * *

 **Haunted by History** **by Jess S**.

_Because what’s past can’t be forgotten…_

* * *

     

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1:_ ** _**La Inquisición Española**._

_ Oliver’s P.O.V. _

 

 _Queen Mansion_ didn’t feel like home anymore—that should probably feel more surprising than it did. The mansion was still familiar, of course, and so were the staff, their routines, everything. But if his mother and sister weren’t here, Oliver wouldn’t even keep up the pretense of spending any time here at all—not that he spent much time here anyway these days. The familiarity of it all was reassuring, but it’d taken him weeks after he came back to get to the point where he’d really remembered that familiarity enough to feel any kind of ease here.

 

Honestly though, he was starting to wonder if it was too soon into their relationship to suggest officially moving in with Felicity. Which was a really weird train of thought for him—the idea of moving in with Laurel had driven him to completely sabotaging their relationship—but it was there anyway. Then again, this was Felicity, and maybe that was all the difference. That and the simple fact that he wasn't the boy he used to be, not anymore. 

 

Maybe not in her comfortable little house, though it did fit the two of them. But he’d prefer to move her to some place that was more secure. Further away from the Glades—nearer to some safe running paths—and with an actual security system that was turned on all the time. All pleasant thoughts...

 

Except Thea probably wouldn't be staying her much longer either. Whether she moved away to college or moved in with her boyfriend only she could really say. Her big brother had to wince again at the latter possibility, too, but that didn't mean he didn't know it was possible. And that that'd leave their mother alone in this big place, which made him wince, too. It was something that'd still happen—likely sooner rather than later.

 

Not entirely alone, of course. Just as alone as you could technically be with a full house, round-the-clock staff. But most people didn't realize how alone that could very much  _feel_. The mansion belonged to their family, of course, but it’d always seemed too big for just the four of them. It was the expected standard of the insanely rich, however, and so they’d lived up to it.

 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t recognize that piece at all, señor,” he heard his mother apologizing in the living room as he headed down the stairs. “Thea, do you—”

 

“Nope,” Thea’s voice interrupted, sounding a little distracted: or still half-asleep, since it wasn’t even ten yet. “It’s pretty. Little gaudy though.”

 

“It’s a lovely necklace,” was Moira's quick, diplomatic correction as her son was entering the room. To find his mother and sister having coffee with an older man he didn't recognize at all. "It might be faster to schedule an appointment with our accounts manager at  _Starling National_ , they keep track of everything somehow. Our collection is so extensive—I doubt I’ve even looked at all of them myself. Our ancestors, you see, have been building upon in for several generations now.”

 

“Si, si, Senora, of course,” ‘Señor’ was nodding understandingly, looking like he was going to say something else, until he noticed Oliver watching them curiously, which drew his mother’s attention to him, too.

 

“Oh, Oliver, good morning,” Moira greeted her some with a warm smile. “There’s coffee and pastries on the side board, help yourself,” she indicated the side table.

 

“Yeah, and Raisa’s making waffles,” Thea told him, which explained why she wasn’t eating anything with her coffee just yet. Then she frowned at him, “Wait, what’re you still doing here?”

 

“Thea,” Moira murmured reprovingly.

 

“What?” her daughter shrugged. “I thought he’d already be back at Felicity’s by now. He’s never here in the morning anymore, ‘cause he doesn’t usually sleep here. Everything okay with Felicity?” Thea finished more worriedly again as she looked at him. Clearly more bothered by the idea that he might’ve upset his girlfriend then she was by her accurate observation that he didn’t sleep here anymore if he could help it.

 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I told you last night, she wants us to spend more time together, remember?” Oliver offered his sister a smile, which earned a little smile from both women even as he added, “I’ll head over to her place once Digg gets here.”

 

His mother didn’t quite sigh as she said, “I’ve tried to convince her to actually make use of the company drivers, there are two directly assigned to her, after all. Perfectly reasonable with her new positions,” she shook her head. “She’s rather adamant about not needing them.”

 

“Yeah, she is,” Oliver agreed easily as he remembered more than a few times he’d heard something similar from his girlfriend. Then he looked between his mother and the man he didn’t know. “What’s going on?”

 

“Oh, please excuse us, señor,” Moira looked back at her guest quickly. “This is my son, Oliver. Oliver, this is Miguel Salazar from the _Prado_ _Museum_ in Madrid. Spain.”

 

“Buenos días, señor,” the older man immediately offered his hand, which Oliver didn’t let himself shake as firmly as he could. It was getting easier to remember the distinction of when he should and shouldn’t show strength—though with his mother and sister here the fact that he was supposed to be ‘Oliver Queen’ was easier to remember.

 

“Good morning,” Oliver replied, glancing between his mother and Salazar again as they each let go. “So what brings you to Starling City, senior?” he asked, deliberately mangling the question a bit by switching the Spanish word with a similar sounding English one, because ‘Ollie Queen’ badgering a foreign language made sense. He _had_ failed Spanish, after all. Twice, come to think of it… though did it count as failing if he'd never bothered to figure out where the classroom was in ninth grade?

 

“Actually, Oliver, you can help us,” Moira said, somehow not wincing at her son’s faux pas. “The museum was interested in a piece that was to be auctioned from the Queen Collection. I understand that you donated some pieces to the _Starling City Cancer Society_  several weeks ago?”

 

Oliver blinked, a little thrown by the question, but then he nodded. “Yeah. I donated some things,” he admitted, shrugging as he explained without being asked, “Met someone at the club a little while back, his little sister’s been battling cancer a while now—he said the society’s been a lifesaver for her, so I figured why not?” he shrugged again, knowing it should be more than enough of a reason for his mother.

 

That it was all a lie didn’t matter, it sounded like a good story and parts of it were probably true when it came to what the society did do anyway. Either way, it shouldn’t matter, that was why he hadn’t mentioned it to his mother at all previously, even as an afterthought that would’ve earned her approval. Moira Queen donated a lot more than either of her children ever did every year, and she’d never discouraged them from doing the same. The exact opposite, in fact.

 

“Of course it’s a wonderful cause, I’m so sorry I missed it myself,” Moira sighed, looking to back to the Spaniard as she explained, “It’s so much more difficult to stay involved with all of the charities I used to since I’ve had to step in for my husband at the company.”

 

“I can imagine, señora,” the Spaniard nodded kindly, “And again you have my most sincere sympathies.”

 

“Thank you,” the Queen matriarch nodded automatically, before she quickly turned the conversation back to her son. “Oliver, the piece the museum wanted to bid on was a necklace. You withdrew it from the auction shortly before it started?”

 

Oliver didn’t let himself frown, but it was a close thing as he made himself think about it for one blink before he let a little frown form. “Uh, yeah? I wrote the society a check to make up the difference. Why?”

 

“The museum wants to buy it, Ollie, duh,” Thea rolled her eyes, clearly not nearly awake enough to be sympathetic to her brother’s confusion. Not that she would be anyway. Her expression brightened a second later: when Raisa walked in with a new platter to add to the breakfast side-table—the waffles she was waiting for. “Oh, yum! Thanks, Raisa,” she said enthusiastically as she dashed over to the table to accept the plate their childhood caretaker immediately offered her with two waffles already ready to go on it.

 

“You are welcome, Miss Thea,” Raisa replied, before she looked at the others. “Mister Oliver, would you like your smoothie?”

 

“That’d be great, Raisa, thanks,” Oliver replied, allowing the natural smile that came to show.

 

His former nanny smiled back, before she finally looked at his mother, “Will there be anything else, Missus Queen?”

 

“No. Thank you, Raisa,” Moira’s smile was just a little softer than the one she usually directed towards employees—but then again, their lovely Russian housekeeper and former nanny was much closer to family than most. “Everything looks wonderful, as always.”

 

Raisa smiled back, giving a small curtsy, before telling Oliver, “I vill only be a moment.”

 

“No rush,” Oliver told her, “Take your time.”

 

“Would you care for some waffles, Señor Salazar?” Moira asked the Spaniard then as the housekeeper departed.

 

Salazar hesitated a second, then nodded. “Si. It does smell most excellent. Muchas gracias.”

 

“De nada,” Moria replied smoothly, leading the way over to the banquet to guide her guest through the somehow sensibly elegant placement of each edible and the condiments.

 

Oliver followed them silently, still trying to get a read on why exactly the Spaniard was here about Felicity’s necklace. But he knew better than to try and rush his mother when she was playing perfect hostess. A part of him didn’t want to since she was so clearly enjoying the role she didn’t get to play nearly as often as she used to because she _was_ busy being acting-C.E.O at _Queen Consolidated_. So he took one of the smaller plates and put a few pieces of bacon, sausage and some fruit on it before he joined his sister as the breakfast table, just in time to watch her set the syrup aside after she’d completely saturated her waffles with it. “Some waffles with your syrup, Thea?” the longtime tease fell from his lips without thought, and he was already grinning even as his sister did, too.

 

Maybe it was weird that he liked to see that his baby sister still like to turn her waffles into a sort of syrup soup before she ate them, but it was something that reminded him of when she used to run after him and Tommy, still a little kid with her hair in tight braids. That was how she always ate waffles back then, just like she was right now…

 

“Ha-ha, Ollie. I don’t get to eat these half as often as I used to,” Thea sighed, shaking her head. “So I’m gonna enjoy every bite and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

 

Oliver didn’t let himself frown at that, though he wanted to.

 

He was sure Raisa wasn’t the one that’d cut back on his sister’s diet, even though she was the one who could be both a professional chef and a nutritionist. She’d gotten the education for all of it even before Thea was born, but had stayed with the Queen family all the same.

 

But his sister thinking she had to watch her weight was crazy. Oliver knew she got more than enough exercise, especially since she’d stopped going out partying harder and later than she ever should have. But that wasn’t a discussion he was sure he wanted to have with Thea, even if they didn’t have company.

 

“Our curators were so very excited when they saw the necklace, Señor Queen,” Salazar said as he sat down with his plate. “And equally disappointed when it was withdrawn before bidding began.”

 

“Why?” Oliver let himself ask, munching on a piece of bacon as he met the Spaniard’s earnest gaze.

 

“It is a national treasure,” the older man told him, with almost enough emphasis for it to seem theatrical, but the earnestness in his eyes kept it real. “Thought lost many years ago during la década ominosa—the ominous decade.”

 

“Okay,” Oliver said, then shook his head. “Well, it wasn’t stolen or anything like that.”

 

Felicity would’ve told him if that was the case. Then again, would the now dead fiancé she still wouldn’t talk about have told her that?

 

“No, no, of course not,” Salazar shook his head. “It was a gift from the royal family to a much admired lady of the court. A wedding present. Doña Felicidad was a very dear friend of Queen Maria Christina, and a lady that even King Ferdinand VII was said to admire in his way.”

 

The name made Oliver blink again, just because 'Felicidad' was so close to 'Felicity,' but that was just a coincidence. It had to be. "That's almost two-hundred years ago, right?" he asked, just to be sure. He was pretty sure, because it wasn't that long ago that he'd run the Google search on it: that was right before he'd attended the auction that was at the root of all this, where he'd had to save Felicity from getting her head blown off by the damn Dodger...

 

Salazar wasn’t the only one to blink back at him for the question—both his mother and Thea did, too—but then he got over his surprise and nodded enthusiastically. “Si, si. Very close now, very close. La década ominosa ended with King Ferdinand’s death in 1833.”

 

“Wait, 33?” Thea looked up from her waffles with a blink of confusion. “Not, like, the 1830s?”

 

“No, though your confusion is understandable, senorita,” Salazar told her, before he explained, “La década ominosa was the last ten years of King Ferdinand’s reign.”

 

“Oh. So, it ended when he died. Got it,” Thea nodded, and then promptly turned all her attention back to her breakfast—to everyone’s amusement.

 

Oliver had twitched as he remembered his girlfriend saying the same thing about the historical period, word-for-word. Then he shook his head. “If the royal family gave it away they can’t claim it was stolen,” he pointed out, though he wasn’t sure if Spain still had a royal family or not. European history hadn’t held his interest back in high school, let alone college, anymore than the other history classes—or most of the classes in general. The bits and pieces he’d heard Felicity mention, however, had stuck—she somehow made everything more interesting…

 

“No, no, of course not,” Salazar agreed, shaking his head. "We would love to hear how it came to America, of course. It's whereabouts for the last two centuries have been a complete mystery. Pero, it is understandable—more than understandable **—** if you simple do not know, señor." He shook his head regretfully. "However, as I was telling Señora Queen, the addition of so fine a piece of our history would be most welcome at _e_ _l_ _Museo_ _Nacional_ _del Prado_.”

 

“Why’s it a national treasure?” Thea interjected then, sounding more awake now that she was halfway through her waffles and all that syrup—plus however much coffee she’d had beforehand. “The royals not give that many presents away?”

 

“Not at all, my dear,” Salazar chuckled, shaking his head again. “Fine jewels and the like were not unusual gifts to a bride of her stature and esteem.” Then he sighed. “I am afraid it is not the nicest tale. However, most history is not.”

 

“Well now you have to tell us,” the youngest Queen insisted with a smile that was almost a smirk.

 

Easily winning another laugh from the Spaniard. “Very well,” Salazar agreed, smiling indulgently as he nodded—something Oliver could completely relate to when it came to his sister. “As I said, Doña Felicidad was a dear friend of the queen. She was said to be a lady of great fortune, as well, though we’ve never been able to find historical records on precisely where in Sicily she came from. We know she arrived in Spain with the royal wedding party. She was known to be a friend to Her Majesty from youth. There are contrary accounts as to whether she was officially in service as a governess or companion to the princess in Sicily. However, it is known that her friendship gave her far greater influence and authority than was common for most maids of honor within the royal household." He shook his head, looking thoughtful as he went on. "Intriguingly, there was very little animosity against the lady for that. By all accounts, she was very well liked by all.”

 

Absurd as it was, the idea of Felicity in that sort of situation was strangely easy to imagine. But the historian had started the tale with a warning about it not having a having a happy ending, so Oliver disliked the thought automatically…

 

The Spaniard gave a small, sad sigh before he went on, “When the lady was to wed, the royal family gave her a very fine gift,” he indicated a photograph on the table, one of several the archer hadn’t paid any attention to until now.

 

Oliver reached for the small stack then, studying the one on top with a frown as he recognized that it _was_ the ornate necklace made from diamonds and emeralds on gold that Felicity didn’t seem to like at all. He’d already known that it was; there was only one piece that he’d pulled from the auction after donating it, specifically to cover for the fact that the Dodger _had_ stolen it and he hadn’t realized that Felicity didn’t particularly want it back until he was returning it to her, but the confirmation was still unsettling.

 

“A work of art, is it not?” Salazar said with a smile.

 

“So how’d you find it in the vaults, Ollie?” his sister asked him then. “‘Cause I don’t ever remember seeing that one, and I _know_ I’ve spent a lot more time going through the jewelry than you have. So has mom, obviously. Looking for something?” she fished, wiggling her fingers in an odd way that her brother decided to just ignore.

 

"No," Oliver shrugged, then admitted, "It wasn't from our vaults," he shook his head, going on to explain when the others all frowned at him. "The other pieces in the auction were—I had _Starling National_ send over some of the pieces you'd set aside for charity, Mom. But that wasn't one of them."

 

“Okay,” Thea cocked her head to the side, a gesture Oliver couldn’t ever remember his sister doing before she’d started spending time with Felicity. “Then why was it with our stuff?”

 

Oliver hesitated, but then decided he was better off just answering, even if he couldn’t talk about why they were at the auction in the first place and all of that. “Felicity wanted to donate it anonymously. Then she didn’t. I pulled it from the auction when she changed her mind,” he shrugged as he finished explaining, and then watched his mother and sister both blinked, while the Spaniard looked intrigued.

 

Raisa came back into the room just then, handing Oliver his smoothie with another automatic exchange of smiles before she left as quietly as she’d come.

 

“It’s Felicity’s?” Moira asked, sounding like she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

 

Which Oliver didn’t think even Felicity would be offended by. It wasn’t like his girlfriend threw money around at all—let alone anywhere near as often as the Queen family and others like it did. He’d started to suspect—because of that necklace—that she had a lot more money than he would’ve initially guessed, considering her former job in I.T and how hard she’d worked there for too many hours. But the familiar heirloom she didn’t actually like wasn’t the only clue either. Some of the comments she’d made—or hadn’t made—about wealth were hints to. And how blasé she’d been about his family’s money when it’d come up. He hadn’t decided if he wanted to ask yet, though; on the off-chance that most of her money might come from her hacking more than anything else. If that were the case he wanted to be sure she felt like she really could trust him before he brought anything like that up. So Oliver nodded silently as he took a sip of the smoothie.

 

“And this ‘Felicity’ is?” Salazar asked then, glancing between them all curiously.

 

“Oh, Doctor Felicity Smoak is the head of our Cyber Security Department,” Moira told him.

 

“And Ollie’s girlfriend,” Thea immediately added.

 

Oliver had to roll his eyes even as he covered the need to say anymore by drinking some of his breakfast smoothie.

 

“I see,” Salazar blinked, but then he quickly nodded and asked, “Then might I request an introduction to la doctora?”

 

“Certainly,” Moira agreed immediately, and her son fought not to frown at her as she went on. “Perhaps you could join us for brunch tomorrow?”

 

“I would be delighted,” the Spaniard agreed with warmth that seemed genuine.

 

“Oliver, would you—”

 

“I’ll ask her,” he cut in before she could suggest anything else, though he wasn’t sure she would. She did actually seem to like Felicity—but she’d liked Laurel, too.

 

His mother smiled, “Wonderful.”

 

“I still don’t get why it’s a national treasure,” Thea complained then, squinting at the picture of the necklace. She shrugged when all of the adults looked at her. “I mean, how do you even know this is the right necklace?”

 

“Oh, well, yes, I suppose that is rather relevant isn’t it?” Salazar chuckled, setting his now cleaned off plate down on the table as he stood and moved to the end table where his pictures and paperwork had been neatly stacked by one of the maids while they were all filling up their breakfast plates. He was already shuffling through them as he sat down, “Here we are.”

 

The first two pictures he put down were familiar. One was the snapshot that’d been posted on the auction website. The other looked like a close-up of a painting of the same necklace. But the third photo—a picture of that full painting—had all the Queens blinking at it for a very long moment.

 

“A fine piece, is it not? It is one of two portraits by Francisco Goya of Dona Felicidad,” Salazar told them. “The first disappeared years ago, much like most of the lady’s personal belongings, but this second piece was painted after the lady’s tragic death.”

 

Oliver swallowed back the unpleasant feeling at the back of his throat, not saying anything as one of the maid’s took his plate and the Spaniard’s away while he stared at the picture while the older man went on.

 

“As the story goes, the good lady tired of navigating the court intrigues and so Her Majesty helped arrange her wedding to the third son of the Conde de Empúries, one Don José.”

 

Oliver blinked, because hadn’t ‘José’ been the name of Felicity’s last boyfriend? The one that’d tried to hurt her?

  

"It would not have been unusual for the queen to be involved in ensuring her ladies made matches worthy of them," Salazar went on. "Though there were also some stories about the king being too interested in the lady herself, and that perhaps that was why she received such a fine gift. Such stories make history all the more emocionante, of course, but I know of no documentation that confirmed it," the museum director shrugged. "The royal family may also have added to the excellent dowry the lady brought to the match, though again she was said to be a lady of some great wealth from Sicily. By all accounts it was a fine match, especially for a third son of any noble house as they stand to inherit very little in their own right. However, the wedding never took place, so little paperwork survived, and we can do little more than speculate on such specifics.” 

 

“Wait, she died before the wedding?” Thea asked, looking a little concerned now as she glanced between the storyteller and the image of this long dead lady that'd resembled their Felicity Smoak so strongly.

 

“Si, sadly. The very night before, in fact—and murdered by the very man she was to wed,” Salazar shook his head sadly. “Some think she may have gotten cold feet, or perhaps she learned something of her intended groom that made her want to cancel the wedding. Yet as I said; no one knows for certain. Pero, whatever the cause may be, that night Don José lost his mind enteramente,” he spread his hands as he sighed, setting his silverware down on the plate in the European way that indicated he was done. “And most unfortunately, this was in the late days of la Inquisición Española.”

 

“The Spanish Inquisition?” Thea looked like she might’ve preferred having this conversation when her breakfast hadn’t only just found its way into her stomach. “Like the witch burnings and stuff?”

 

“Si, exactly like, unfortunately,” Salazar sighed again, looking disheartened as he went on with the sad story that was the whole reason he was here with the three Queens now hanging on his every word. “As the story goes, el loco dragged his bride-to-be to the town square, where he declared to the town that she was a witch.”

 

“Seriously?” Thea snorted disbelievingly.

 

“Si, unfortunately,” Salazar said and sighed again. “In his fervor—and perhaps because this happened on his family’s land, the lady was put to death immediately. Or so the story goes,” he shook his head. “It must have taken the Don’s men at least some time to construct the stake—burnings were not so very common that one stood ready to be burnt in every town square. Though that town saw more than most in its time.”

 

“Without even a trial?” Moira asked, not even trying to hide her horror at the idea anymore than her daughter was. “I thought that even when those things weren’t unusual…” she trailed off uncertainly, looking even more disturbed as she finished than she had when she started.

 

Oliver was only doing a better job of hiding his emotions because he had a lot of practice at it. And his mother’s fine china hadn’t done anything to deserve being destroyed this morning. Something he'd reminded himself of three times already so far. Four now.

 

“Si, si, such was the usual way,” the museum director confirmed seriously. “Pero, as I said, this was not in the capital where the royal court was. The wedding was to take place on the groom’s family’s lands—not unusual when the bride came from afar with her royal mistress and intended to stay in Spain.” He shook his head. “And so, in his fervor Don José was able to force the present Inquisitor Tribunal to condemn the lady immediately.”

 

“After they’d built the stake, you said,” Thea reminded him, sounding as unhappy at the idea as she looked.

 

As all of them looked, and the Spaniard wasn’t missing that fact.

 

“Si,” Salazar sighed, going on before they could say anymore. “It was said that the heartbroken lady could not even attempt to speak in her own defense, and that it was her very vulnerability that incited the mob that tried to save her—too late. By the time they made it past the Conde’s guards, the poor lady was already burning.”

 

“That’s horrible,” Moira murmured, swallowing like her daughter had as she glanced at the picture that looked a lot like Felicity.

 

Oliver wasn’t looking at it anymore. If he did, he would break the china, at the very least. And that wasn’t something he could so easily do before Shado made him slap water until he was strong enough to draw a bow years ago…

 

“Indeed,” Salazar sighed again, shaking his head sadly. “The poor lady was not the last victim of la Inquisición Española, pero it was a common belief that her murder was what eventually led to the movement’s abolishment. Some years later, under Maria Christina’s daughter, Queen Isabella,” he nodded to the picture of the painted portrait. “Senior Goya, of course, did not live so long. He’d painted his second portrait of the lady not long after her death.”

 

“So it’s, uh, important because of that?” Thea summarized curiously, looking like she might want to change the subject but knew she’d regret not asking later. Her brother could relate to both feelings: though more the first than last.

 

“It is a physical piece of our history, yes,” Salazar nodded, “Though it is undoubtedly the mystery around the lady herself that engenders much of the interest now.”

 

“Mystery?” Moira dutifully asked.

 

“As is the nature of such things,” Salazar didn’t quite shrug. “What we know of the lady is far less than what we do not know. We know she came to Spain with her royal mistress from somewhere in Sicily, but not specifically where. Where all her wealth went after her murder is not known either—and it was said to be a very great fortune for the time. The Queen wanted to handle her funeral personally, but the body could not be found—possibly because no one wanted Her Majesty to see her friend’s remains. The King wanted Don José’s head, yet he, too, was never seen again after that night. Perhaps he was killed in secret on the royal family’s orders to avoid a public trial, yet if that was the case there was no proof left behind…” he trailed off at the end, clearly thinking about the story he’d undoubtedly told before.

 

“That’s, uh, interesting,” Oliver finally made himself say something, because it’d probably been too long since he’d spoken and his smoothie was already gone.

 

“It is at that,” Salazar nodded, then shook his head. “Sad though the fate of _La Ángel Caído_ was, of course, she did play an indirect part in ending la Inquisición, which was certainly a blessing for España.”

 

“I’m sure she would’ve appreciated a long and happy life more, but sometimes that can’t happen,” Moira said then, surprising both her children because it was a lot less diplomatic than she’d usually be with a stranger.

 

The Spanish museum’s director didn’t seem to take any offense though. “Ay, esto es verdad,” he shook his head, and quickly translated himself, “This is true.”

 

“ _La Ángel Caído?_ ” Oliver repeated the earlier phrase, because there wasn’t any real reason not to ask.

 

“Ah, si, si. The Fallen Angel,” Salazar indicated the painting. “The name of the painting, though whether that was the name given by its painter, Goya himself, or the royal family, is not known.”

 

“Seems like there’s an awful lot you don’t know,” Thea commented, half distracted by her curious study of the painting. “I mean, it was only, like, two hundred years ago, right?”

 

“Si,” Salazar chuckled, shaking his head. “However some mysteries the past did keep from the history books. And without any historical evidence we have only speculation. That is the allure, and why we are so very excited to find the necklace again. However it came to be in your friend’s keeping might lead us to overlooked evidence. And that may help us discover what really happened. Solve the mystery.”

 

“Or not,” Oliver had to point out, mainly because he was pretty sure Felicity wouldn’t like talking to this guy. She might try to hide it from the Spaniard, but her boyfriend already knew she didn’t like that necklace and her own personal history with it. Never mind what happened to the woman that owned it almost two hundred years ago, even if she did look a lot like Felicity and was therefore related to her somehow...

 

“It doesn’t look _exactly_ like her,” Thea said then—like she was reading her brother’s mind—while she was studying the painting. “The smile’s way too sad. And the hair’s all wrong.”

 

Oliver glanced at it again, too, and observed, “Different eye color, too. Her eyes are blue, not black.”

 

But other than those three things, this could really be a picture of an oil painting of Felicity. Painted by Francisco Goya. Almost two-hundred years ago.

 

“I could’ve sworn the eyes were blue myself,” Salazar said, frowning at the painting for a moment before he sighed. “But I checked back with the original and the photo before I left Madrid, once the board decided the venture was worthwhile…”

 

Okay, that seemed like a weird tangent. But either way it wasn’t like the two-hundred-year-old painting could actually _be_ of Felicity. Definitely a doppelganger of her though, or maybe an ancestor. Though exactly how her ex-fiancé had found a necklace that might’ve once belonged to someone she was somehow related to Oliver couldn’t even guess…

 

“Well, this is all fascinating,” Moira declared then, smiling warmly at their guest. “And I’m sure Felicity will be interested, too.”

 

“She might not be able to come tomorrow, mom,” Oliver interjected then, as he remembered a plausible excuse. “Her brother’s flying in from Paris, I think. He didn’t give us the exact flight info,” he finished with a shrug, deciding not to say just yet that she might just not want to come. If she didn’t he wasn’t going to make her—but then she had to work with his mother, so she’d probably be more diplomatic…

 

 “Oh,” Moira blinked, then nodded, still smiling. “Well, he’s certainly welcome to join us. I’m sure he’ll have plenty to contribute.” She said, and then told their guest, “Felicity’s brother is a language expert. He works for the Louvre.”

 

Damn. Oliver fought a frown as he watched the older man smile. He’d forgotten about that.

 

“We will have much to speak of then,” Salazar agreed, rising to his feet then. “And I think I have taken up enough of your time this morning,” he declared, spreading his hands again—the man seemed to talk almost as much with his hands as he did his mouth. “When shall I call on you for brunch?”

 

“Does eleven o’clock work for you?” Moira offered politely, and the Spaniard agreed with equal politeness.

 

“Perfectly. Muchas gracias for your time, Missus Queen.”

 

“It was our pleasure, señor,” Moira stood to accept his handshake as her children also dutifully stood.

 

“Thanks for the story,” Thea offered as she accepted his hand next.

 

The Spaniard laughed lightly. “It was my pleasure, Miss Queen. Sad though the story is, it is one well worth hearing.”

 

Oliver reached out to shake his hand as soon as it was free, “It was nice meeting you, señor,” he said, not destroying the pronunciation this time because it looked like he might have to talk this man out of bothering Felicity if that was what she wanted. It wasn’t like he could put an arrow in the guy for bothering his girlfriend...

 

“And you as well, Mister Queen,” the older man agreed, not hiding his wince as he the archer squeezed his hand a little too tightly, but not saying anything about it either. “Please tell Doctor Smoak I look forward to meeting her.”

 

Oliver made himself nod, then didn’t bother following as his mother escorted their unexpected guest to the door.

 

“Well, that was weird,” Thea said as soon as they were alone in the room.

 

“Yeah,” Oliver had to agree, and then he raised an eyebrow at her. “You gonna try to duck out on this brunch, too?”

 

His sister considered it for a second, before she shook her head. “No. Not if Felicity’s gonna be there. She’s fun.”

 

Oliver chuckled, “She is.”

 

Thea hesitated a moment, glancing at him nervously, then she finally said, “Do you think it’s too soon to try introducing mom to Roy?”

 

Oliver was glad they weren’t eating anymore because he probably would’ve choked even if he’d only been sipping on his smoothie betweens bite of bacon. Somehow he stopped himself from wincing though, because his little sister was looking right at him, her big eyes reminding him a lot of the little girl that used to speed after him and Tommy wherever they went. “No,” he admitted, and made himself shrug. “If he can behave, she might even like him.”

 

That was a pretty big ‘if’ in his mind—a kid from the Glades living up to their mother’s standards. But he had been under Tommy’s wing for weeks now, and as far as Oliver knew they hadn’t had any problems at _Verdant_.

 

“You think so?” Thea asked him, somewhere between hopeful and worried.

 

Oliver really wondered why he had to be having _this_ conversation with his baby sister. This had to qualify as some sort of torture that even _ARGUS_ couldn’t top. But he still made himself answer without a wince, scowl or sigh. “Yeah. She’s not as bad as she used to be.”

 

"We can thank Walter for that," Thea snorted, then she sighed. “I keep worrying she’ll revert now that he’s…”

 

Oliver winced then, even as he tried to reassure her, “They’re still looking for him, Thea," he tried to reassure her, though he knew he probably shouldn't he couldn't help it. "If my surviving _The_ _Gambit_ ’s proof of anything, it’s that anything can happen.”

 

Sure, he’d be surprised if anything other than a body turned up at this point. But stranger things _had_ happened in his life— _much_ stranger things—so for his mother and sister he could try to hold out a little hope. And Felicity, too, since she was much more personally invested in finding his step-father than he was…

 

“Yeah,” Thea agreed, sighing softly, before she shook it off. “Besides, it’ll be easier introducing them when mom’s focused on something else. And Felicity said she’d help.”

 

“Of course she did,” Oliver rolled his eyes, then forced a smile as their mother came back into the room. “Well, I guess I have some things to talk to Felicity about before she goes to work—”

 

“Work?” Thea cut him off with a frown. “It’s Saturday. That’s why we’re having brunch tomorrow. On Sunday.”

 

“Try telling her that,” Oliver rolled his eyes, “I have.”

 

“So have I,” their mother put in, shaking her head. “That young lady has a tremendous worth ethic, though she agreed to not work too much today.”

 

“Yeah, she said she’s just wrapping a few things up this morning,” Oliver acknowledged. “But I’ve gotta get going: we have some things to talk about.”

 

“Like you weren’t heading to her place anyway,” his sister interjected, then she quickly added, “I’ve gotta go see her, too. Do you still want to have dinner at _Table Salt_ tonight?”

 

“Yes,” their mother confirmed with a smile. “Please let Felicity know she’s more than welcome as well.”

 

Oliver only nodded as he headed for the door, his sister barely a full step behind him. He waited till they were outside, walking towards the garage, before he asked her, “Why are you coming with me?”

 

“I told you, Felicity said she’d help me,” Thea reminded him.

 

“Oh.” Oliver shook his head, “Great.”

* * *

 

**NEXT: _Healthy Habits_** _._

_How had Felicity managed to forget just how much she liked her independence?_

_Especially when it came to over-protective—and unnecessary—shadows…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So there it is.  
> This had to come back around eventually, right? A few of you had asked about it, so it wasn’t exactly a possibility I’d hidden very well. If you didn’t focus on it, though, that’s understandable. There’s a LOT of ongoing secrets here still.  
> Like I said at the start, I am going to be trying for a semi-regular update schedule here. I usually have enough free time in the summer to manage that.  
> As always: comments, ideas, constructive criticism et al. are ALWAYS appreciated. And they really do help—sometimes only a little, keeping me focused, on track, etc. Sometimes a lot—whole new plot points/scenes, etc!  
> And yes, I am begging. Those stumbling blocks that I mentioned at the start of the scene that I’m tripping over at the moment are irritating and they make it very easy for the siren call of my computer games to call me away from my writing. Even the kudos count helps sometimes, though I’d rather here what everyone’s favorite thing so far is. Or what you’re anticipating the most. Or what’s the most confusing. Or, or, or… something. I’m not that picky. But if you did take the time to ready even all of my long-winded note here, SOMETHING must’ve held your attention in the scene. Let my know what it was?  
> As always, thank you so much for reading!  
> More to come (hopefully very) soon!  
> ~ Jess


	2. Healthy Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here with have the next chapter. Sorry for the wait.  
> I had a nasty shock last week—friends of mine had to put their dog down. Gidget was a wonderful lab: sweet, always welcoming, happy to hang out with you and thrilled to go for walks that got me out of the office occasionally. And of the dogs at the my work place, she was the youngest with no noticeable health problems till she suddenly started acting like something was wrong in the middle of the night and her owners took her to the vet and discovered she had a massive tumor in her stomach. Apparently it wasn’t operable: she probably would’ve died during the operation if they tried because of all the blood vessels it was tied up with and her quality of life would have been severely diminished either way. So after spending about a day going through their options (after taking her to the vet at 2 AM when she started acting strange) my friends decided they had to let her go. I didn’t find out until the day after that when I came back to work—and I admit, I didn’t take it well. I adored Gidget—but then I think everyone who knew her did. She was an absolute sweetheart. I know I’m not the only one that’s going to really miss being welcomed to work by her…  
> Anyway, that’s largely why it took me longer to update than planned. I didn’t really have the heart to make myself do much of anything productive after I found out last week. Watching the royal wedding this weekend sort of helped me mend a little bit.  
> Although my own pets did, too. My cat, in particular, seemed to realize I needed extra attention. Or he simply felt he did—sometimes it’s hard to tell with Merlin—but it helped, too.  
> Also, my heart goes out to the victims of yet another school shooting. Though I do wish the media would stop plastering the shooter’s face all over the news like he matters more than his victims. That’s a change I can hope for, at least. We probably won’t see anything improve when it comes to gun laws or keeping schools safer until all the politicians noosed to the NRA are voted out of office. Hopefully all the people who supposedly support the students marching for safer schools will keep carrying that momentum to the voting booths. My latest election didn’t have anything on the ballot that’d help, but maybe others did. Only time will tell.  
> But I’ll stop ranting now. Again, sorry for the wait.  
> I’m dedicating this chapter to Gidget.  
> Please enjoy.

**_Chapter 2: Healthy Habits_** _._

   

_ Felicity’s P.O.V. _

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Felicity didn’t usually pay too much attention to the sounds of her own sneakers hitting the pavement in the steady rhythm that her feet and the speed she was moving them at dictated. Right now she was focusing on it though, if only to ignore the hyper-awareness of almost all of the people who were running with her this morning. She’d quickly go crazy if she let herself focus on all of this ridiculousness.

 

At least Navid had helped her convince Nyssa that the four of them—Navid, Nyssa and two extra men—were more than enough protection for a short early morning run around the neighborhood. These four were bad enough, if there were any more of them scrutinizing every single shadow she’d really have to say something.

 

Well, three of them, anyway. Navid wasn’t nearly as on edge as the three other assassins: and why would he be? It was a simple truth that he would sense another Immortal nearby long before they got to her, just like she’d sense them, too. It was the one thing that early warning from the Quickening really was good for—surprises and ambushes were two things that were far from easy among Immortals.

 

Not impossible, of course, but right next to that: nearly impossible. Enough so that only the most insanely determined even tried. And she could count the headhunters that’d successfully held up that hunting pattern for more than a few years with one hand and have fingers to spare.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Mazin’s followers—his daughter included—were trying _so hard_ though. Felicity couldn’t decide if it was sad or sweet. And annoying… maybe all three?

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

And amusing, too. Just because of how hard everyone was trying to match their pace to her comfort level when she wasn’t even trying very hard herself.

 

The only one who wasn’t giving her continual sideways glances in between constant scans of their surroundings was, again, Navid. Her fellow Immortal had lost numerous sparring matches to her before, so he at least didn’t have any doubts about her ability to put one foot in front of the other in relatively rapid succession.

 

It was probably only due to his unquestioning loyalty to his master that the man Mazin called ‘The First’ had come here with Nyssa at all. He _knew_ Felicitas was more than capable of handling any headhunter, even one he’d trained. So he wasn’t here for the ancient queen his master revered, not really—he was here because of the challenge to the Ra’s al Ghul’s honor. Something no loyal member of the League of Assassins could even try to ignore.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

That didn’t mean Navid wasn’t taking the situation seriously. No, on the contrary, since he knew Felicitas could run as well as everyone else here, if no better, he was the one who was most focused on actual security. So he was scanning the shadows—he was just much better about being subtle about it. His eyes skimmed straight over most of the dark spots that his younger companions kept scrutinizing, because he knew better. 

 

Mazin’s daughter didn’t seem to see things so clearly. Not even after so handedly losing to the ancient a few weeks ago. Even though Nyssa had only escaped with her head that night because Felicitas had realized in time that the whole attack was some sort of strange test and not an actual threat to her life…

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Felicity herself wasn’t going to bother with eyeing each and every shadowy spot they went by. She’d sense this ‘Crocodile’ coming long before her eyes could actually spot him… which only made her think of the crocodile intent on eating Captain Hook in Peter Pan. Specifically the cartoon one in the Disney movie, whose arrival was always forewarned by the telltale ‘ _Tick-Tock_ ’ of the clock the amusing monster had swallowed. The first time she’d seen the movie she’d been a little amazed that a cartoon could actually make the idea of losing a limb—or being eaten by a crocodile—at all laughable, but by the last fight scene she was giggling when the sound of the clock announced the arrival of Captain Hook’s demise. Dear God, now she probably wasn’t even going to be able to face this man with a straight face when the time came…

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Of couse, Navid might be watching for mortal mercenaries that the headhunter might be intelligent enough to hire. This traitorous ‘Crocodile’ had to know he’d be fighting through his former comrades if he wanted to get anywhere near her. That was actually pretty likely, now that she thought about it—after all, it was the one tactic that’d had any real effectiveness for headhunters in the past. As a warrior who’d fought within the League for some number of centuries, the man hunting her head would undoubtedly know that.

 

Wonderful. Something she should actually worry about that would not come easily to her at all.

 

It had been a long time since Felicitas had taken threats from most mortals all that seriously—specifically if they were only threatening _her_. The Immortal. After all, if they weren’t carrying a sword—or something else they could take her head off with—she’d be on her feet again soon after any assault they might make. And _that_ was only in the unlikely off chance that she wasn’t able to fend them off, was really _very_ far from likely.

 

A henchman with a gun who might want to bring her to his master—by shooting and then moving her before she woke up again and could draw her own sword—could, in theory, be a real problem.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

 “Are you alright, ‘Ama?” Nyssa’s voice interrupted her morbid morning musings again.

 

Felicity chucked, “I’m fine, Nyssa.”

 

“Just like she was the last three times you asked,” the only other woman in the group interjected from the Demon’s daughter’s other side with a laugh that sounded just as sweet as the song of the bird she was aptly named for within the League.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Felicity decided then that, whatever her story was for the last several years, she did like Sara Lance. Not just for the sound of her laughter, but for the simple fact that she _could_ laugh while surrounded on all sides by far too serious assassins. And that that laughter turned the corners of her newfound niece’s lips upward despite themselves. She suspected that Sara’s easy-going temperament was what’d drawn Mazin’s daughter’s attention in the first place, after being surrounded by serious warriors all her life. But it was far too early in her own relationship with the pair for her to ask either woman about that sort of thing.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Felicity did still wonder what exactly the young assassin had done once she’d been given permission to act here in Starling City. Sara’s so obvious desire to protect her family from the potential consequences of their curiosity wasn’t something she’d had it in her to deny. Even if they did live here in her home city—and thus Felicitas' indirect protection—that duty did belong far more to their ‘lost’ family member. Hopefully a day would come when she’d be able to ask about it, but that’d take time, too. In the meantime, however, Tommy hadn’t mentioned anything dire happening to Laurel or her parents, so she didn’t really need to ask. She just wondered.

 

Everything took time. Always.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

At least Felicitas had all eternity… which always sounded so lonely.

 

“I am only asked, Habibata,” Nyssa reproved her lover lightly. And the grin that her ‘niece’ wasn’t trying to hide was yet another reassuring sign for the ancient Immortal. [Beloved]

 

“There’s no harm in asking,” Felicity agreed, before reminding her just as lightly. “But we are still running my daily route, you know. I’m out here almost every day, so I’m more than up to it.”

 

She was pretty sure she heard Navid make a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a snort, but she didn’t bother looking his way to see if any visible sign of his amusement would make it through his serious mask. It wouldn’t.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

 “Yes, of course, ‘Ama,” Nyssa agreed. A moment later she continued with a slight frown. “You run in this area alone?”

 

“Sometimes,” Felicity acknowledged, with her tone still light, even though she knew where this was going next. “I run every day if I can, but I have different routes. Keeps it interesting.”

 

This was going straight to the same place it’d gone with her worrywart boyfriend. Why was it everyone had such a hard time believing she could look after herself? She’d just fine, for the most part, for the better part of the last three thousand years! Which Oliver wouldn’t know, but Nyssa al Ghul certainly did.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“This is considered the more dangerous part of the city, is it not?” the princess of assassins asked charily—perhaps more aware than she was otherwise letting on that Felicitas temper was stirring behind her smiles. She was still young, but she wasn’t stupid.

 

Felicity did let herself sigh then. “The Glades has the highest crime rate in the city,” she acknowledged, but then she immediately shook her head. “This area’s not that bad though. The worst we’ve seen this morning is the drug dealer a few blocks back. I’m sure he had at least a gun on him—”

 

“He had two,” the Canary corrected helpfully. “One in an ankle holster, and another in his back pocket—not very safe.”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“He’s a drug dealer,” Felicity reminded the assassin. “Nothing about that’s safe. Or smart.”

 

“No,” Navid put in, and there was definite note of amusement in his voice. “He also had a crowbar, I believe.”

 

“And his lookout was a kid who should be sleeping in or watching Saturday morning cartoons. Both of them were half-asleep and not the least bit interested in me before this. If they noticed me today, it was because I usually run by myself or with my boyfriend. Not a whole group like this,” Felicity pointed out, rolling her eyes at the surprise that flashed across her niece’s face.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

 “Your Beloved runs with you?” Nyssa asked curiously.

 

Shrugging while running was an odd exercise in and of itself but Felicity did it anyway because it felt like it fit. “Well, he does wake up with me most mornings now,” she shook her head again. “It’ll be interesting to see how he reacts to unexpected company. He’s still waiting for my brother to show up though, so maybe this won’t be too big of a shocker.”

 

Nyssa blinked, “My father?”

 

“No. Adam,” Felicity replied, and pretended not to notice the surprised look that returned to the Pre-Immortal’s face a moment later—after she’d figured out who exactly ‘Adam’ was. Not that it could take long, since Felicitas only claimed two Immortals as her brothers. Figuring out her sisters would take a lot longer—as _that_ included the Amazons.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

She also ignored the startled sound from Navid’s direction, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate acknowledgment of the fact that he was even more intimidated by the world’s oldest Immortal than his master was. Despite the fact she called both of them her brothers, even though one was her teacher and the other her student.

 

The only time Felicitas herself had actually been afraid of Methos was that night she first met him, when she thought he was another madman come to try and kill her yet _again_. Even that night, though, she’d put that fear behind her then, because he’d said he was there to help her, and she’d believed him.

 

Naïve of her, perhaps, given everything about Immortality—but she preferred to think of it as optimistic. Hopeful. She couldn’t live in this world without hope, and it _had_ worked out well. Save for the nightmare that followed him in the form of the Witch, and he could claim all or even most of the blame for that madwoman’s actions. No matter how much he wanted to…

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“You are expecting him soon?” Navid’s question brought her back to the conversation. And just how even his voice was—how normal—wasn’t a surprise, though it’d probably taken him the whole handful of moments she’d spent thinking to make sure it’d sound like that. After all, it wouldn’t do for Ra’s al Ghul’s First to sound hesitant, fearful, or anything else like that.

 

“He warned me that he’d be dropping in soon, but that call was a few weeks ago,” Felicity shook her head, going on like this was the mundane topic it was rather than the alarming news that most of the assassins thought of it as. “Of course, it’s not exactly his fault he’s not here yet. I did ask a friend of ours to keep him busy for a little while. She always comes through, but they finished her distraction a few nights ago. They should both be here sooner rather than later, I’d guess, so Oliver’s going to get to meet all of the family at once.”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“Might not be the greatest idea,” Sara said, sounding much more serious than she had only a few moments ago. “Ollie doesn’t have the greatest history with that sort of thing.”

 

Or maybe that wasn’t serious—maybe she sounded worried? Given her own history with Oliver Queen—on top of her sister’s especially—maybe that should be expected. But then Oliver wasn’t the boy he’d been back then anymore than Sara Lance was still the girl who’d snuck onto _The Gambit_ to sleep with her sister’s boyfriend…

 

Something Felicitas couldn’t personally hold against either Oliver or Sara. She wasn’t there, wasn’t involved, and didn’t know any of the people involved back then either. She’d formed educated guesses as to what’d led to what, but that was all. She suspected her boyfriend cheated on his _then_ girlfriend with her sister because he wasn’t ready for the relationship to progress like Laurel wanted and couldn’t make himself tell her that. What she’d found of their relationship history—online, or from Tommy or Thea—definitely seemed to indicate that ‘Ollie’ had given Laurel every reason to dump him before that. Many times before that. Laurel kept taking him back regardless, but _The Gambit_ had to be a betrayal too far—maybe not something he’d consciously planned that way, but that was what he’d done.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

But that was then, not now. That wasn’t who Oliver was now. Not anymore. The last five years of his life had seen to that. There were times when he had a hard time talking: especially if it meant giving answers he didn’t want to give—yet or ever. He did try though, and it wasn’t like she couldn’t relate on that.

 

Felicitas certainly couldn’t hold his past against him either way. She had a past of her own, and hers was a _lot_ longer than his.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“He doesn’t,” the Immortal agreed once she was sure she could keep her tone mild. “But he’s not the boy he used to be now. He went through a lot these last five years.”

 

“Time does change a person,” Nyssa interjected, glancing back at her girlfriend. “None can escape it.”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“Everyone changes over time,” Felicity agreed.

 

Sara Lance, though, didn’t seem to agree. “Doesn’t mean you should ignore what someone used to be like,” she insisted.

 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Felicity nodded. “But you also can’t ignore how they’ve changed.”

 

“If they have.”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Felicity finally let herself look at the other blonde with a frown, “He has,” she declared firmly, and not much of the mildness she’d been aiming for before made it into either word.

 

And the assassin immediately looked away. “Sorry,” her apology was barely audible over the drum beat of all their feet across the hard pavement, but it was still said.

 

So the Immortal nodded, “Thank you for your concern,” she offered the other woman, before she looked back and Nyssa and indicated the road up ahead. “This is where I turn back, but you probably want to keep going. I’m sure your daily routine is far longer, and you have the time.”

 

While it was far from impossible for an Immortal to whip themselves into shape with their Quickening healing them all the time, it took longer and required far more effort than it did before that Pre-Immortal spark exploded with its eternal energy after the First Death. So she was sure Mazin had made sure his daughter was in excellent shape—in fact, it wasn’t at all hard to see that she was in peak condition—but she had to keep up the regular exercise to stay there. An Immortal wouldn’t, because the Quickening didn’t let them fall out of shape once they were there: an appreciated hand-off for those that did have to work particularly hard to get there…

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

 “No, ‘Ama,” Nyssa started to object. “We can—”

 

“Continue on, Nyssa,” Navid interrupted, not quite unexpectedly. “Gregory, Reidar and I will see Felicity home.”

 

Felicity deliberately didn’t look at the Pre-Immortal to see how she reacted to her authority being openly challenged like this. It didn’t seem to be too great a challenge for the young woman, but then again Navid had undoubtedly been one of Nyssa’s teachers after her father. Still, it could be trying for any young warrior to have their ability questioned in front of someone they respected. And Mazin had raised his daughter to all but revere Felicitas.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

But Navid wasn’t wrong to send Nyssa and the others on. The Pre-Immortal would likely argue about whether or not the ancient needed so many fighters protecting her, so it wasn’t worth objecting to just yet. Fewer battles frequently made it far easier to win the war, even if the real enemy here was one of the League of Assassin’s own out to get her. What was more important—and why Navid had spoken up—though, was the simple fact that Nyssa was still a Pre-Immortal. Because she actually needed all of this endurance training just as much as any mortal who wanted to stay fighting trim.

 

Pre-Immortals didn’t get sick, of course, the spark of their _almost_ entirely dormant Quickening beneath their skin somehow still protected them from that. But no more than that.

 

Easily _maintained_ endurance was one of several luxuries that came with being an Immortal, though that was something that wasn’t discussed with Pre-Immortals especially. Felicitas had thought before that maybe it should be, because it was so much harder for an Immortal to increase their endurance with their Quickening determinedly protecting their body from any changes at all, meaning that they never had to worry about losing what they had, but they did have to work that much harder to improve themselves…

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“If you insist, Al-Owal,” Nyssa finally agreed. There was definitely some reluctance lurking in her voice, and she was probably using his League title as some sort of message, too, but Felicity didn’t feel like trying to read into that right now. She hadn’t even looked at a cup of coffee or tea yet…

 

“It is best, Warith al Ghul,” was Navid’s firm response, also using Mazin’s daughter’s League title. _[Heir of the Demon]_

 

The politics could be somewhat entertaining if you didn’t actually _care_ all that much about the topic being discussed. And Felicity didn’t have to care, because with Navid deciding to side with her she knew she’d be getting her way. For now at least. Each little victory had to be fought for though, and appreciated when it was won.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

To the young warrior’s credit—especially considering her rank within the League of Assassins as its leader’s daughter and heir—Nyssa reacted well. Mainly by _not_ letting herself react at all after that initial reluctance, and instead accepting the decision with a grace that seemed all too rare these days. Maybe there was a message in her use of Navid’s title and her not entirely even voice, but she still recognized that she had to agree and did so.

 

Self-control was something Mazin had needed to work at when they’d first met. A lot. He’d been a _highly_ skilled warrior, of course, and not a bad leader, but it’d still taken him time and effort to move past the mindset of the typical tyrant. A mindset that many warriors naturally tended towards: because they were doers, not thinkers. Mazin, however, was at least wise enough to know he had to learn more. Initially he wanted to learn from Death of the Four Horseman—to become like the mythical legend that her teacher was. But he’d admitted not too long after he’d started learning from Felicitas that she was likely the better teacher for him. She taught him how to _think_ , which Methos would have to—but one of the few things her brothers agreed on was that anyone who wanted to learn how to lead should seek her out. Some of her lessons were so simple, but that was the beauty of them—and what many needed help seeing. You had to focus on purpose: instead of getting mired in what was ultimately meaningless.

 

So Mazin had learned, and he’d clearly taught his daughter well, too. Another reassuring sign—though Felicity wouldn’t be able to completely put _those_ worries to rest until she saw the man himself again.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

 “Remember, Sara can’t come all the way with me anyway,” Felicity reminded her niece gently. “In case Oliver’s already there.”

 

“He won’t see me,” the Canary promised again this morning.

 

And finally Nyssa sighed, “It would perhaps be most wise that we part here,” she agreed.

 

“We’ll see you at home then,” Felicity said as they reached the turn, and the group split with the seamlessness that only coordinated fighters or dancers could manage.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Even most athletes didn’t have the synchronicity to manage it—though the crashes that took place in actual races had much to do with a racer’s competitiveness being in understandable overdrive, on top of their inability to predict the exact actions of their competitors. Sports teams had to practice and play together a lot to achieve whatever level of cohesiveness their coaches deemed necessary. Warriors trained a lot, too—the difference really was that an individual warrior really did work at learning to anticipate the actions of others because when they needed to do just that it wasn’t a game: it was life and death. _That_ of course led her thoughts back to The Game, oh so hated as it was.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

Felicity didn’t want to think about that, though, so instead she looked over at the man who was now running beside her: focusing on him because they should speak anyway. “You’ve taught her well.”

 

“I have done little,” Navid demurred. “Most of the work was her father’s. And her own.”

 

“Of course,” Felicity allowed. “But you taught her what you could.”

 

The other Immortal nodded at that. “We all did.”

 

Felicity chuckled, but didn’t try to poke at him anymore than that. Instead she glanced back at the warrior who was following a few steps back on her right. “It’s Reidar, right?”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“Yes, Honored—”

 

“Call me Felicity, please,” she interrupted firmly, because it really was a habit they needed to follow when Oliver and anyone else who only knew her as ‘Felicity Smoak’ was present. If they slipped even once both her boyfriend and his ‘bodyguard’ _would_ notice.

 

The assassin didn’t verbally stutter, but he definitely caught himself after almost missing a step at the light reproach. “Of course… ma’am.”

 

Felicity snorted at the more normal respectful address. “Better, I guess. Though I’m not currently married, so ‘miss’ would be more fitting.”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“Yes, miss,” Reidar responded more quickly this time, almost managing to sound like he wasn’t hoping the answer would appease her enough to turn her attention anywhere else.

 

Felicity decided to oblige him and instead looked back at the man behind her to left. “And you’re Gregory, right?”

 

“I am, miss,” the second warrior agreed more readily.

 

“Well, Reidar and Gregory, thank you again for running with me. I’m sure it’s boring for both of you.”

 

Navid snorted again.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

 “Thank you, too, Navid,” Felicity added, though she knew that wasn’t what he was reacting to.

 

Saladin’s former bodyguard had always thought she was far too polite, which struck her as odd since his first master was renowned for similar civility even among his enemies. The man may have been as irritating as everyone else that’d tried to protect Felicitas from The Game in their time, but the kindly wisdom that won him so much loyalty and respect was what Felicitas had also admired most about him.

 

More than that though, Felicitas simply preferred to treat everyone the way she’d like to be treated—at least as much as she possibly could. Underlings or not, these warriors were here to keep her safe. Exactly how little she needed or wanted their protection was moot in so far as how she should treat them.

 

It was one of many vital lessons her mother had mostly taught her by example, during the short years of Felicitas golden childhood in Carthage. Before Dido had had to sacrifice herself to save the city and her daughter, making said daughter go from pampered princess to reigning queen almost overnight. Manners mattered, because how you treated people was simply a reflection of your character. It affected how others responded to you, and it was entirely responsible for how they remembered you, too.

 

There were times when authority and decisiveness were necessary, of course, many times for a sovereign especially. But at almost no time did that mean impoliteness was appropriate. The rare occasions when a sharp word or a harsh tone was necessary should stand out for their necessity, to merit the desired, hopefully corrective response. And that meant that the rest of time you had to behave yourself if you want everyone else to do the same: regardless of who you were and who they were to you.

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

 “That way would be more direct,” Navid pointed out with a gesture even as he followed her lead around a corner that led to the more roundabout way she ran home.

 

“It would,” Felicity agreed. “But the owner of a dog that lives on that road doesn’t bother tying him up, and he always wants to follow me home if he sees me.”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“The city allows this?”

 

“Probably not.  But Rufus hasn’t hurt anyone, and his owner has a lot of political ties, so animal control probably just keeps bringing his dog home if it’s called in.” Felicity shook her head. “At least he seems to respect cars, so hopefully his owner’s neglect never hurts him.”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“You could always keep—‘Rufus,’ was it?” Navid suggested lightly.

 

Felicity snorted as she led the way onto the final turn—back onto her street. “A big Husky cooped up in my house or my backyard all the time? That’d just be mean.”

 

“Perhaps, but your home would be more secure.”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes. “That’s what my alarm system is for,” she shook her head. “If someone breaks that, I can fix it. And it’s not like I wouldn’t sense any headhunter a long time before a dog would hear them.”

 

_Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…_

 

“True,” Navid allowed, as one of the other assassins sped up to reach the top step ahead of them and opened the front door for them. “Your security system would work better, however, if you actually used it. And if you locked your door.”

 

“Thank you,” Felicity offered the assassin who was holding the door open, then responded lightly. “Locks and alarms do work better that way,” she shrugged as she continued with the same teasing response she’d given Oliver and Digg several times. “But pockets are out of style in women’s athletic gear at the moment, so not locking the door’s a lot easier. I’ll lock the door and turn the alarm on, though, if that’ll be enough for you three to admit you don’t need to stand guard in my living room while I shower.”

 

“ _Go. Prepare for the day,_ ” Navid ordered the two mortals in stern Arabic, waiting till they’d closed the front door behind them before he told her, “I do not need to, my friend, but I do have to. You know that.”

 

Felicity made a face, but didn’t bother trying to argue the point further. “Well, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. The coffee’s ready to go if you want any, or the tea is in the cupboard by the stove. Everything else is in the fridge.”

 

“Thank you, Felicitas,” Navid bowed his head.

 

Felicity nodded back, but didn’t turn for her bedroom and its master bathroom just yet. “Oliver will be here soon,” she told him. “He likes to drive me to work in the morning.”

 

“Yes, you said as much earlier,” Navid nodded. “We will be ready. The route you selected this morning covered much of the neighborhood’s perimeter, it will not take Nyssa long to complete it.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Felicity nodded again, then said, “Please don’t start a fight with my boyfriend if he shows up while I’m in the shower, okay?”

 

“O-kay,” Navid agreed, sounding like the word had never left his mouth before, though maybe he hadn’t. He went on to promise with words that he was more comfortable with: “I will start nothing with Oliver Queen.”

 

“Thank you.” Felicity nodded again, then frowned. “Nyssa’s not—”

 

“She will be coming with us to _Queen Consolidated_ this morning,” the other Immortal cut her off, surprising her so much that she just blinked at him for a moment as he kept going. “Today is the best time for us to learn the layout of your work environment—when not many are there.” He paused to see if she’d object to that, but it was true so she didn’t, then he went on. “Al-Sāḥir must be dealt with soon as well.”

 

That only made Felicity’s frown deepen, “Not—”

 

But Navid interrupted her yet again. “It will be handled in the manner of your choice, Honored One,” he promised her, shaking his head. “Only Ra’s al Ghul can decide otherwise.”

 

“Not without going back on his word.” Felicity retorted half-heartedly, because she completely expected his response.

 

“To protect you, he would do so,” the assassin told her gently.

 

And Felicity knew he was right, so she didn’t bother arguing. That was why she wanted to fix all of this while her younger brother _wasn’t_ here—though she did wonder what exactly he was working on that he hadn’t decided to handle any of this himself yet. She didn’t ask about that either though, if Nyssa wasn’t willing to answer those questions this morning, Navid certainly wouldn’t now. “All right. I won’t be long,” she told him as she finally headed for her bedroom. “If Oliver and Digg get here before I’m ready, be nice,” she reminded him again, then she corrected herself, “Actually, please be nice either way.”

 

“Of course, my friend,” Navid’s chuckled followed her into her bedroom as she closed the door. It wasn’t that reassuring—but she probably would’ve been hurrying now even if it was.

* * *

NEXT:

**_ Morning Meetings _ **

_Oliver didn’t spend the night—and all these new people showed up while he was gone…_

* * *

  

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, I hope that was worth the wait, even if it wasn't what most of you are still waiting for... So we now we’ve seen a little bit of how Nyssa et al. are settling in to protect Felicity. We’ll see how long she can put up with it all. And next, of course, we get to see how Oliver reacts. It’s a fairly different first meeting for Nyssa…  
> Thank you to everyone who’s still with me on this interesting journey, and especially to all of you who made the added effort to answer my request for comments of just about any kind. Many of them did help a lot. What’d you think of this one?  
> What should happen in the next meeting?  
> What about the dinner? The brunch?  
> Everything to do with the necklace?  
> How long might it make sense for Methos to avoid a direct route to Starling City before Amanda loses her patience because there can’t possibly be any Watchers following them? Any ideas on how the rest of the Highlander crew might show up there anyway? There’s one obvious one: Joe DOES know that Methos wanted reports on Starling City.  
> And is our rogue assassin ambitious/crazy enough to actually attack Felicity when she surrounded by protectors from the League? Especially when Nyssa & Al-Owal are among them?  
> How about thoughts on Mazin/Ra’s al Ghul having not shown up yet. I do already have an idea of where he is et al, but I’d still welcome more ideas/input…  
> …And that’s all I can specifically think of as possible comment starters. I wanted to post this awhile ago anyway, so I’ll just go do that now.  
> Thanks for reading, please comment and more to come soon! :-D  
> ~ Jess


	3. Morning Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Once again I feel like I should apologize for the wait even though all of you wonderful readers—or at least the ones that read my author’s notes and take the time to respond—keep so graciously telling me that I don’t have to. Again, thank you all for that. Still, I want to be updating more frequently than I have been, so I’m going to keep apologizing:  
> Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!  
> Okay. Got that out of my system. Kind of.  
> So, here’s one meeting that everyone’s been waiting for at least a little bit. Not the big one, of course, but I don’t think that’s TOO much farther off. Maybe. We’ll see…  
> Anyway, I hope you all like Oliver’s AU introduction to Nyssa al Ghul! Enjoy! :-D

**_Chapter 3: Morning Meetings_**.

  

_ Oliver’s P.O.V. _

 

By the time he parked in front of his girlfriend’s house, Oliver was starting to wonder how Raisa would react if he asked her to limit his sister’s combined intake of caffeine and sugar. He still wouldn’t say that Thea had to worry about her weight at all. But she hadn’t shut up the _entire_ drive over here. It was a very, very long twenty minutes…

 

At least Felicity was a morning person. Sure, she insisted that she wasn’t even human before her first sip of coffee, but as far as Oliver had seen her bright personality always shown through. Even in the early morning hours she only wanted the coffee for the same reasons he did: because it was a habit and it tasted really, really good.

 

“Huh, new neighbors?” Thea said suddenly, and her brother followed her gaze to the house next door.

 

Not the one with the family that had their eldest mow the lawn a lot. The one on the other side that’d been vacant for apparently the last year: since the family that lived there moved to Colorado because of a good job offer, according to Felicity. Thea was right, though. There were three S.U.V’s there now.

 

“Guess so,” Oliver agreed, frowning at those three vehicles because they were the kind that _ARGUS_ tended to favor.

 

Might be something to look into, but not now—even if he couldn’t shrug off the feeling that there were eyes on him near his girlfriend’s house it wasn’t something he could look into with Felicity _and_ Thea there to get caught in whatever crossfire came his way…

 

“Come on,” Oliver told his sister, gesturing for her to walk up the path ahead of him. He waited till they were halfway up before he reminded her, “I’m probably gonna be driving Felicity right to work, so I’m not sure why you wanted to come.” He’d mentioned something to that affect already, but it was worth repeating. Mainly because he wasn’t sure that Thea wasn’t planning on launching her onslaught of sugar-and-caffeine-jumped-up conversation at the other woman as soon as she answered the door. And he really didn’t want to be stuck on the front steps for hours.

 

“Yeah, you told me that already. Twice.” Thea rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean I can’t talk with her while _you_ drive.”

 

Oliver snorted, “So I’m the chauffeur now?”

 

“Of course,” Thea shrugged. “It’s not like you _had_ to give yours the morning off.”

 

“It’s Saturday,” Oliver replied. “And Digg’s my bodyguard, not my driver.”

 

“Uh-huh, try telling mom that.”

 

“No. Thanks,” Oliver said, then he turned to knock on the front door.

 

The door opened before he could even raise his fist for that knock though, making both Queens stared at the person who’d opened it: because it wasn’t Felicity.

 

“Who are you?” Thea actually asked half a second later, but she didn’t wait for a response before she turned her frown back at her brother. “You _did_ take us to the right house, right, Ollie? I was kidding about us actually needing the driver—or I _thought_ I was.”

 

“This is Felicity’s house,” Oliver answered his sister once she stopped, though his eyes hadn’t left the grizzled man standing in Felicity’s doorway.

 

“Good morning, Mister Queen. Miss Smoak is expecting you,” the man answered with politeness that was somehow both professional but not. Whoever he was, he was old enough to be the senior supervisor on any staff, though his short gray beard was a bit rougher than any would expect from his generation and he was in much better shape than most—fighting fit, even. “And you must be Miss Queen?”

 

“Yeah,” Thea acknowledged, still frowning at the man as she repeated her earlier question a little more politely, “Who are you?”

 

“Oh just let them in already, Navid,” Felicity’s voice came from behind the man before he could answer. “You know who they are. I told you they—well, I told you that Oliver would be coming anyway.”

 

The man stepped back, his mildly amused smile almost hidden by his beard as he held the door open for them. Then they could see Felicity crossing the room towards them, tying her hair up in a fresh ponytail as she went. Other than that, she looked ready to go to work right away, which meant she had already gone for her daily run by the Glades, instead of waiting for him like he’d asked.

 

Damn. Oliver wasn’t really surprised though. She hadn’t actually agreed to the request, and they usually ran a while before now.

 

“Good morning, Thea, I didn’t expect to see you this early,” Felicity grinned at the girl. “It’s Saturday, and it’s not even nine yet. Shouldn’t you still be asleep?”

 

“Can’t,” Thea said with a shrug. “I have to be up before nine, or Raisa won’t make me waffles: and those are worth getting up for,” she admitted, getting a laugh from everyone else: the strange man who was still holding the door open for them included.

 

Oliver held his hand out to the older man as soon as their light laughter died down. “Oliver Queen.”

 

“Oh sorry,” Felicity immediately took over. “Oliver, Thea, this is my friend, Navid. Navid, these are Oliver and Thea Queen.”

 

“It is an honor,” Navid said, bowing his head before he accepted Oliver’s hand and shook it firmly.

 

The hard calluses on the man’s palms set off another flag in the vigilante’s head. Slade had had calluses like that, and so had Tatsu and Talia... so he was a _swordsman?_ Even after Oliver had met three people who were highly specialized with the weapon, he hadn’t thought they were at all common these days. But then there were groups like Talia’s out there: like the League of Assassins that she’d left and probably others like them…

 

Oliver made himself let go after the handshake was completed, hoping explanations would be forthcoming. Fast.

 

“Come in already, both of you,” Felicity told them, waiving them into the house as she turned back towards the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee? I was just about to brew some.”

 

“No, we’re good,” Oliver made himself say before his sister could respond. It was almost a physical pain, denying himself that mouthwatering cup of steamy flavor that was totally worth every extra rep on the salmon ladder. But much as he’d like some himself, he did _not_ want to see what Thea would be like with anymore caffeine in her system anytime soon. And he didn’t want his sister to start showing up here every morning after she’d tasted Felicity’s coffee. “We’ve already had a lot of coffee. Both of us.”

 

Thea made a face, but didn’t argue.

 

Felicity blinked at him in surprise, then she shrugged. “Okay. Navid, do you want some?”

 

“No, thank you, miss.”

 

“Huh. No one wants my coffee today. Okay, I guess I’ll make tea then,” the blonde decided as she crossed the kitchen, snagging the kettle off the stove to start filling it up at the sink.

 

Oliver stopped at the counter, his sister following his lead—except she actually sat down on one of the high stools.

 

The other guest didn’t go even that far. He stopped halfway across the living room to apparently study one of the decorations. A pair of swords crossed elegantly on the wall. Then again, as a swordsman he probably would appreciate that, wouldn’t he?

 

“Nyssa doesn’t drink coffee either, right, Navid?”

 

“No, miss,” the man answered without turning towards them. “She prefers tea. The same jasmine brew you sponsor, I believe.”

 

“Yeah she said that last night,” Felicity nodded, as she turned a knob on the stove till one of the burners lit, then turned it back to just a high flame as she put the kettle over it to heat up. She turned to open a nearby set of cupboards then, reaching up high over her elaborate spice rack to bring down a tin of tea leaves and a teapot he’d seen her use before. “Sit down, Oliver. Can I get either of you anything else? Water? Juice?”

 

“Just water, thanks,” Oliver made himself say as he sat next to the one his sister had already perched himself on. He could fly from that perch into action just as easily as he could standing, and it wasn’t hard to angle himself just so to keep the swordsman in sight, too.

 

“Water’s good, I guess,” Thea agreed.

 

“Okay,” Felicity nodded, heading for the cupboard that he knew many of the glasses were in. “Navid? Do you want any?”

 

“Water as well, please, miss,” the man replied and she nodded again.

 

“Okay,” Felicity said as she set four glasses out and started filling them at the fridge, first with some ice that it dispensed, then the cold water. She set the first two glasses on the counter in front of the siblings, and handed the third to her other guest when he came over to collect it, but she didn’t take the fourth for herself, instead also setting it on the end of the counter: as if waiting for somebody before she stopped puttering to lean against the counter and talk to them. “Okay, the tea’ll take a few minutes,” she said with a shrug before asking, “So what brought this on?”

 

“Thought you had to go to work soon?” Thea asked curiously, instead of answering.

 

“I do, I have some things to finish up,” Felicity acknowledged easily. “But when I get there doesn’t matter that much, _Q.C_ ’s not actually open on the weekend. Technically.”

 

“Always seems like it is,” Thea complained. “Mom’s usually there on Saturdays. Walter usually was, too.”

 

“Your dad probably was, too,” Felicity told her, saying it so lightly that it didn’t make even Thea flinch. “Good managers—C.E.O’s especially—have to be at least available all the time. They’re supposed to be managing everything, after all, or at least delegating tasks and jobs to the people that can handle them.” She shrugged as she finished, then tried asking again, “So I know Oliver’s here to make sure I survived my morning run and don’t work too much today. Did he call you in for backup, Thea?”

 

“Nope,” the brunette snorted, grinning as she went on. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still coming to _Table Salt_ for dinner tonight. And brunch at the mansion tomorrow?”

 

Felicity blinked, “Dinner I knew about,” she nodded, and then looked at Oliver curiously. “Brunch?”

 

“Mom wants you to come,” Oliver acknowledged, not letting himself glance at the gray-haired man who’d returned to studying the swords on the wall halfway across the room. “She has a guest from Spain who wants to meet you.”

 

“Meet me?” his girlfriend blinked again, then outright frowned. “Why?”

 

Oliver sighed, “He’s from a museum there. They're interested in the necklace that was almost auctioned a few weeks ago?”

 

Felicity pursed her lips—just a little. If he wasn’t watching her for a reaction it probably wasn’t a sign of her unhappiness that he would’ve spotted right away. It was gone a second later, but she didn’t like the subject matter anymore than he did. Her right hand started towards her neck, seemingly on its own: but she aborted that motion midway through, too.

 

Oliver winced, both at her reaction and his own nightmarish memories of that particular night. And the memories of a much more deadly device than the necklace they were talking about around her neck had haunted him more than once: during the day and at night, even though she hadn’t been hurt. The horror she hadn’t been completely able to hide when she’d said, _‘I’m going to get **decapitated** , aren’t I?’_ wasn’t something he’d ever be able to forget. It was a close second to the horror he’d felt in that moment when he first saw her with that damn collar around her neck. And now that he knew some of her history with that necklace, and her personal distaste for it, he’d rather never make her talk about it again. But she had to know why the hotshot from some big museum wanted to meet her…

 

Felicity finally sighed, “Because it’s the necklace in the Fallen Angel?” she guessed, making both Queens blink at her again.

 

“Yeah, actually,” Thea was the one to answer right away, looking intrigued. “You knew about that?”

 

“I know its history, yes,” Felicity sighed, then said, “I suppose I should at least meet with the museum’s representative. Only polite and all that.”

 

“That may complicate matters, miss,” Navid suddenly spoke up, finally turning from the swords he’d been so intently studying.

 

“Oh, right. Actually dinner tonight will, too,” Felicity agreed, before quickly explaining, “My cousin is visiting right now,” she told them, making her boyfriend blink at her again.

 

“Your cousin?" Oliver repeated, not letting himself frown. "I thought it was your brother that was visiting?”

 

“He is,” Felicity shrugged as she took another sip of coffee. “He’ll show up. Sometime soon, I’m sure.”

 

“And your cousin just dropped in, too?” Oliver asked her, trying to wrap his mind around the idea.

 

Mainly because here was another whole section of information that _ARGUS_ had completely failed to turn up when he’d requested and received that background check on Felicity Smoak. The one on Diggle had just about everything on the man: not surprising considering he’d spent most of his adult life in the military and private security was something the intelligence community kept an eye on, too. But Oliver had been surprised by too many things about Felicity already. He was starting to think that this was something he’d actually have to talk to Amanda Waller about soon—not a pleasant thought at any time of day, but first thing in the morning he definitely needed more coffee first. Dammit.

 

“Most of my family’s not that big on short-term planning,” Felicity admitted with another shrug. “A lot of my friends, too. Live in the moment, you know?”

 

“There’s something to be said for that,” the vigilante agreed, carefully hiding the uncertainty that all of this was stirring up.

 

“Well, it's not a problem, really. I mean, Mom would _love_ more people to entertain,” Thea put in. “She doesn’t get to do that sort of thing so much anymore. I think she misses it,” the teen rolled her eyes even as she said it. “God knows why.”

 

Felicity laughed lightly, “We all enjoy different things,” she pointed out with a small smile that both Queens couldn’t help but return.

 

“That’s true,” Oliver acknowledged. “So where is she?” he asked with another glance at her guest room door, which was wide-open and therefore not hiding anyone behind it.

 

“Oh, she’ll be back soon. She’s still running,” Felicity made a little circular waive with her hand as she went on. “Her usual run is a bit longer than mine.”

 

Oliver frowned. “She’s running around the Glades, too?”

 

"She might be," Felicity replied, completely ignoring his frown--except she was using that same light tone she always used when she was talking about that specific unnecessary risk she refused to recognize no matter how much he complained. "She didn't tell me exactly how much farther she'd be running."

 

“The Glades isn’t really that safe,” Thea said hesitantly, also frowning worriedly.

 

Oliver bit back his agreement, because Felicity already knew how he felt about this and he didn’t want to continue this argument in front of his sister and a man he’d just yet—even if that man was doing a pretty good job of pretending he wasn’t listening to them. The swords that were decorating the walls really weren’t all _that_ interesting. Most of them looked a lot more functional than ornamental, anyway, and he didn’t think any of them were antiques or anything like that.

 

“It can be more dangerous than some places,” Felicity allowed lightly, clearly more comfortable continuing this ongoing argument than she was with everything about the necklace. “But there’s danger everywhere. There’s no point in avoiding most of the world because of what _might_ happen there. That’s not living.”

 

“Staying safe’s a good way to live longer though,” Oliver had to refute.

 

He heard what sounded like a light snort from the other man in the room, but his girlfriend responded before he could even look that way again.

 

“That’s debatable,” Felicity said, making her boyfriend wonder exactly how she could call the importance of her safety ‘debatable’ when she’d all but begged him to take better care of himself more than once now.

 

But he still didn’t want to argue now—this was a conversation they really had to have out in private. Or at least with only Digg listening: since he was the only third party the two of them had that could really act as a judge for any of this, all things considered.

 

“Why’s she here? Your cousin?” Oliver made himself ask instead. “Work? Or just visiting?”

 

Felicity didn’t answer right away, and her nose wrinkled up a little bit as she thought about it. Then she said, “Little bit of both. We don’t see a lot of each other, so it’s nice of her to visit,” she sighed as she finished. “Okay, a pot you’re waiting for never boils, so let’s go get comfortable.”

 

“Isn’t it a ‘watched pot’?” Thea interjected, grinning even before the other woman responded.

 

“Same thing,” Felicity said as she rounded the counter with a waive for them to follow her back into the living room.

 

Oliver had to grin at that, too, as he followed her over to the couch that’d probably never be as comfortable as the old one was. “Where’s she from?” he asked once they’d all sat down.

 

Well, the three of them—the old guy was still studying the swords on the wall halfway across the room from them. If there were shadows there, he’s probably blend in with them in all his dark clothing and silent near stillness. Which only made the vigilante more wary of him, not that he could do anything about it.

 

“India, actually. Her father’s based in the Middle East, so he does a lot of work in that area. She grew up in a small city in the mountains there.” Felicity answered.

 

And she didn’t sound as light as she had just a second ago—like she was picking her words carefully?

 

“She travels a lot now,” Felicity shrugged. “All around the world, I think.”

 

“For work?” Oliver pressed, not entirely sure what it was about the answer that he didn’t like.

 

Maybe it was just that she felt the need to be so careful with him…

 

Maybe it was because she wasn’t meeting his eyes. Her gaze kept going back to the front door though, so she was probably wondering when her cousin would be getting back. Despite her own blasé attitude towards her jogs near and sometimes even in the Glades, it wouldn’t surprise him if she was worried about her cousin. Whether the woman was some sort of spy or not.

 

“Um-hum, working, yeah.” Felicity agreed, and took another sip of her coffee.

 

Oliver almost didn’t want to ask the standard question, because it felt like he was pushing his luck on just how much she’d be willing to even pretend to answer at all. But his sister asked it for him.

 

“What does she do?”

 

Felicity pursed her lips: clearly considering her answer before she sighed. “It sounds like she’s following in her dad’s footsteps. He’s always—well, no, he used to be a doctor, but that was lifetimes ago: before his first wife was murdered. I never knew her…” Felicity sighed again and shook her head. “As long as I’ve known him he’s always been… well, something of a problem solver, I guess.” Her nose wrinkled a little at the description she clearly didn’t like, even as she shook her head yet again. “He won’t talk about it if you ask. Nyssa probably won’t either.”

 

Thea blinked at the babble—maybe because she just hadn’t learned to expect it, or maybe because it hadn’t really answered her question. Except it had, in a roundabout way, said it was an answer that couldn’t be given.

 

Oliver nodded slowly as she finished, meeting her nervous eyes when she did finally look back at him. “Okay,” he told her calmly. “Then we won’t ask.”

 

“What?” Thea blinked as she looked between them. “Why not? Why won’t they tell us?” she wanted to know.

 

“Thea, let it go,” Oliver tried to tell her.

 

It didn’t look like she was going to back down, but then the old guy startled them by speaking up again.

 

“There are times when one cannot speak of what they do, Miss Queen,” Navid managed to say the words with so much weight that the teenager could only stare at him for a long second.

 

“Doctors and lawyers can’t talk about their clients,” Felicity pointed out reasonably. “A lot of other jobs aren’t all that different.”

 

Oliver liked it because she was steering his sister away from all the spy shit that he didn’t want anywhere near her. Not that he liked the idea of Felicity involved in anything like that either, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure she was—even if she did know more about her various family members’ lines of work then she was willing to admit. Over the years though, he’d gotten better at picking his battles—most of the time anyway.

 

“Your mom can’t talk about some parts of her work at Q.C with you,” Felicity went on. “I can’t either.”

 

It was almost enough to distract him from the elephants that kept trying to tiptoe around the room without making a mess… but again, he’d said he wouldn’t ask.

 

He’d want to, of course. Especially since it sounded like her cousin and her uncle might be spies, too. Like her brother—or both her brothers, maybe. Including the one that _ARGUS_ knew nothing about; or at least Amanda claimed they didn’t know anything…

 

But the more questions Oliver asked, the more Felicity would have to dance around the answers to avoid telling any secrets that weren’t hers to share. And he couldn’t ask that of her when he was still keeping so many secrets of his own.

 

Both of them still had so many stories to share. And he wanted to have that chance: to tell his own, and to hear hers, too. To share those stories, those secrets, and that _trust_.

 

“We won’t ask,” Oliver said again, shooting his sister a look till she nodded.

 

“Okay, I guess I won’t ask,” Thea shrugged. “No point if they can’t answer.”

 

Felicity’s surprised but relieved blink was worth the wondering.

 

She was worth it.

 

If Oliver was sure of anything at this point, it was that.

 

“No. No, you can ask,” Felicity said then, but she definitely looked a little more relaxed as she said it. “I’m just not sure what she’ll say.”

 

“Okay,” Oliver nodded again, before telling her, “I’m gonna text Digg though. He’ll want to meet your cousin.”

 

“That’s true,” his girlfriend acknowledged as he took his phone out and started thumbing the request in. “We’ll all fit better in the limo, too.”

 

Oliver snorted, but didn’t disagree. Unplanned though this was, Digg wasn’t far away. Even on a Saturday morning—and one he was specifically supposed to take off—Diggle was undoubtedly at _Verdant_ working out like he usually would be around this time. With the new people involved, Oliver wanted his friend’s additional eyes here. It didn’t matter if one of them was Felicity’s cousin and the other someone she recognized as a friend. Not really. Besides, it wouldn’t exactly be hard for Digg to grab one of the limousines in the club’s lot. They kept them there for exactly this sort of thing.

 

Digg’s response of _‘Be right there’_ wasn’t a surprise.

 

“He’s on his way,” Oliver relayed.

 

“That’s just sad,” Thea sighed.

 

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Felicity agreed more lightheartedly.

 

It was only because Oliver was watching his girlfriend so closely that he’d noticed the last time she’d glanced at the front door, but he was watching that closely. So when she did so again, he offered. “We can go find her if you’re worried.”

 

“What?” Felicity blinked at him, but then she immediately shook her head before he could respond. “No. I’m sure she’s fine.”

 

“If she’s running in the Glades—”

 

“I jog around the Glades all the time, I have for years. And it’s not an area you avoid either,” his girlfriend pointed out, and she actually rolled her eyes as she finished. That almost got him to argue the point with her again, but she kept going before his protective inner instincts could burst out. “Besides, with all of the guards she has with her, only an idiot might try anything. And most idiots have at least some sense of self-preservation, so they’d probably have to be high on Vertigo, too, to be that stupid.”

 

“Guards?” Thea repeated, while her brother was blinking at the same information. “She has guards?”

 

“Some guards, yeah,” Felicity answered noncommittally, like that was somehow a normal thing.

 

Oliver had to frown as he asked the next obvious question, “Because of the job we’re not supposed to ask about?”

 

That made sense. Though his experiences with _ARGUS_ that it was generally people like Amanda Waller who had guards—so did that place this ‘Nyssa’ at a similar stature in whatever agency she worked for? And her father even higher? Or was it that Felicity’s uncle was the one of similar rank to the Director of _ARGUS_ and he just had more of a heart than Waller did when it came to keeping his family safe? Not a hard thing to imagine, really, and even a little reassuring. If the man truly cared about his daughter, after all, he might care about his niece, too.

 

“Something like that,” Felicity nodded, then she clarified, “Though it’s more because of her father. Kind of.”

 

“How many bodyguards does she have with her?” Oliver nodded as he asked the practical question instead of all the others that were shooting around his head.

 

He ignored the look from his sister, who clearly wondered why he’d ask that. She wasn’t saying anything more though. Not yet.

 

“I don’t know. At least four, maybe more,” his girlfriend shrugged like those kinds of details didn’t matter. “And Navid, of course,” she indicated the man that was still studying the swords on the wall like they were works of art.

 

Navid was almost blending in with that wall while he did it. It was the sort of thing that servants were supposed to strive for, but the people that _had_ to do it sometimes—like bodyguards, or assassins—were usually better at it.

 

“He’s the head of her guards, at the moment anyway,” Felicity went on, still sounding thoughtful. “There were three more men running with us this morning. Navid, you mentioned something about shifts?”

 

The man immediately turned when she addressed him directly, bowing his head again before he responded with, “I am not at liberty to discuss the exact security parameters, miss.”

 

“Of course not,” Felicity rolled her eyes. “But you’re gonna have to tell us some things if they’re going to be following us everywhere.”

 

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “Us?”

 

“My cousin’s here to spend some time with me,” Felicity clarified, shaking her head. “That’s apparently gonna mean coming to work with me. And dinner, too. And brunch, I guess. But not _Verdant_. I already told them that they wouldn’t all fit in the basement,” she tried to reassure him.

 

“Basement?” Thea repeated, blinking between them again. “What basement?”

 

“Under _Verdant_ ,” Felicity answered much more smoothly than her boyfriend could’ve tried to. “It’s mostly storage space, lot of pipes and air vents that need some work. And rat poison, for the rats,” her nose wrinkled in dislike like it always did when she mentioned the critters that really weren’t that much of a bother in the basement.

 

Really the rodents weren’t all that stupid. They mostly avoided the basement after a few of them had died with arrows in them…

 

“Why would you want to be in the basement?” Thea still looked understandably confused. “With the rats?”

 

“I don’t want to be there with the rats,” Felicity shook her head. “That’s what the rat poison’s for. And the exterminator that’s there sometimes.” She shrugged. “That’s where I setup the computer systems though, so I have to work down there sometimes.”

 

“…Why aren’t the computers in the office?” Thea wondered.

 

Felicity chuckled. “State-of-the-art computer servers for really good systems take up more room then you’d think,” she shrugged before going on. “They’re not the whole buildings' they used to be, but they still take up some space.”

 

“Huh.” Thea shrugged again. “Okay.”

 

“Anyway, that reminds me,” Felicity looked at him. “You need another Digg.”

 

“No, I don’t,” Oliver replied without even a second’s hesitation.

 

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Well, I know you don’t _really_ need a bodyguard—”

 

“Try telling Mom that,” Thea snorted.

 

“Careful, sis’, she could still make you put up with one, too,” Oliver reminded her.

 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” his sister grossed.

 

Felicity waited for them to finish before she went on, “Digg’s hours are insane. He should have someone he can trade off with some days—at least during the day when you’re not out, you know?”

 

“I’m not really getting any of this,” Thea decided as she stood up as she asked, “Can I use your restroom?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Felicity replied and pointed. “It’s right down the hall, there.”

 

As Thea was crossing the living room towards the hallway that led to the townhouse’s second bathroom, the man stopped his study of the swords to move across the kitchen to the back door. “I will be outside if needed,” he told them. “I must complete my morning katas.”

 

“Okay,” Felicity nodded. “Thank you, Navid.”

 

The bathroom door clicked shut only after the back door did, and as soon as they were alone Oliver looked at his girlfriend again: jumping into the mini-argument because this had to be said. “Felicity, I really don’t need—”

 

“I know, but what if he gets sick?” she cut in insistently.

 

“Then I won’t have a bodyguard for a day or two,” Oliver answered with the obvious. “Like you said, I don’t really need a bodyguard, Felicity. And Digg hasn’t said anything about needing any time off.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “That’s because he’s a workaholic, just like you and me. We should add someone normal to the mix. Someone who does normal things.”

 

“Why?” the archer asked just to humor her, and they had to get this out before his sister came back. Or the old guy that he couldn’t help but be wary around.

 

“Perspective,” Felicity persisted. “It’ll help all of us remember what normal’s supposed to be.”

 

He had to admit that she did have a point, or at least something resembling one. But he really didn’t see why this was a big deal to her. Or if it really was. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal, just a bit of one…

 

“Okay,” Oliver shrugged. “Tommy already knows about everything important. He’s normal, mostly.”

 

For just a second it looked like his girlfriend was trying to think of another argument, then she sighed. “More normal than any of us, anyway,” Felicity agreed, but then she was frowning again. “But he can’t cover for Digg if he needs time off.”

 

“I don’t _need_ anyone to cover for Diggle,” Oliver reminded her again, just stopping himself from rolling his eyes. “If he needs any time off, he can take it. No problem.”

 

“There _is_ a problem,” his girlfriend insisted, “If you get shot again I still won’t be able to carry you anywhere, any more than I could move you from my car into the foundry last time. And I don’t think Tommy could help all the much, do you?”

 

“He’s stronger than he looks. And I don’t plan on getting shot again,” Oliver shrugged, even as he glanced down the hallway towards the bathroom door that was still closed. The walls were pretty thick here, something he’d noticed before. But while the imposing old man’s katas could take who knows how long, it wasn’t like Thea was taking a shower or even doing her make-up in there so she’d be out soon, and he didn’t want her hearing any of this.

 

“Did you _plan_ on letting your mom shoot you the first time?” Felicity asked him, one skeptical eyebrow raised.

 

“No,” Oliver had to admit. “But that’s why we had the med-station fully prepped for anything like that.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Felicity responded, still sounding skeptical as she shook her head again. “You guys should at least invite Tommy into the Arrow Cave—”

 

“We don’t call it that.”

 

“Yes, we do. Or at least I do, occasionally. Live with it,” his girlfriend told him, going on as he did roll his eyes at that. “And you _should_ involve Tommy more. He wants to help, and you could help him get more into shape.”

 

The bathroom door finally did open again just then, and Thea emerged with an almost scowl stretched across her face. “Are your walls lined with lead or something?” she asked Felicity as she walked back to the sink.

 

“Yes,” Felicity replied immediately, sounding like that wasn’t something both Queens should be blinking at her for as she looked innocently back at the teen.

 

Thea clearly decided to take it as a joke, because she rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t hear a thing in there,” she complained.

 

“Good,” Oliver retorted. “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping anyway.”

 

Thea only rolled her eyes again as she dropped back into her seat on the not as comfortable couch. “So what were you two talking about anyway?”

 

“Tommy, actually,” Felicity told her before the big brother could decide if he should snipe back at his baby sister or not, which was probably for the best. “Oliver needs to spend more time with him.”

 

Now that just wasn’t fair, the vigilante thought but didn’t say because his sister also spoke up before he could.

 

“Doesn’t he spend most of his time at the club anyway?” Thea’s frown was one of confusion now. “That’s where mom and I thought he was most of the time. When he’s not with you, anyway.”

 

“Sure, they spend some time together at the club,” Felicity answered before he could try to, and much more smoothly than he probably would. “But that’s work.”

 

“It’s a nightclub,” Thea rolled her eyes again. “How much work could it really be?”

 

“A lot more than you think, if you want it to be successful,” Felicity replied right away again. “And so far it has been. _Verdant_ ’s been the hottest nightclub for—what was it?—I don't know, months now? Something like that: pretty much since it opened,” she shook her head. “But that’s still work. And I’m sure Tommy would appreciate help on working out at least.”

 

“Last time I checked he had a gym membership,” Oliver replied, because he really couldn’t see Tommy even attempting the salmon ladder anytime soon. He couldn’t see him punching stuff for hours on end either. And his friend had always been image conscious enough to keep in shape on machines like most healthy people did these days, so why was his girlfriend focusing on that now? And did this mean she was letting the second bodyguard thing go or not?

 

“He did,” Felicity acknowledged, then told him, “It came with his apartment. Before he had to move out because his dad cut him off.”

 

Oliver winced, “Really?”

 

“Um-hum.”

 

“Wait, Tommy’s dad cut him off?” Thea interjected, wide-eyed. “When the _hell_ did that happen?”

 

Oliver shrugged, “Sometime before he started at _Verdant_. It’s why he needed the job in the first place.”

 

“Why would he…” Thea trailed off with an angry shake of her head, and an even angrier scowl now. “What an ass-hat!”

 

“It is technically his money,” Felicity pointed out reasonably, going on again before either sibling could frown at her. “Though there are far better ways to teach your child to be self-sufficient. Since the sink or swim method can have the unfortunate result of drowning if no one’s kind enough to throw you a life-preserver,” she nodded to Oliver. “Like you did.”

 

“Yeah, once he told me,” Oliver shook his head, still wondering how he’d missed how much trouble his friend was in then. And wondering if Tommy ever would have asked him for help if Laurel hadn’t pushed him to do it. “He said he had to get over all the embarrassment and jealousy first—something like that.”

 

“It can be hard to ask for help.” Felicity was, of course, the reasonable one again. “Very hard, for some people,” she shook her head. “Especially if haven’t had to ask before.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t think Tommy ever asked for anything. The money was just there, or the lawyers took care of everything,” Oliver shook his head. “It’s not like his dad was ever around. Not really…”

 

“Don’t think I ever _could_ ask his dad for anything,” Thea put in, wrinkling her nose. “I haven’t talked to him much either, but… he’s not like Tommy at all.”

 

“No, he’s not,” Oliver agreed. “And he won’t seem that much better if you do talk to him,” he sighed. “But he is Tommy’s dad.”

 

“Yeah,” Thea shook her head. “It’s sad. Tommy’s such a great guy. You’d think his dad would see that.”

 

“You’d think,” Oliver also shook his head.

 

“That can be a problem with too much affluence,” Felicity said quietly. “People can get to the point where they forget that the money isn’t what matters. It’s supposed to make life better for your loved ones, not take their place in your life, or your place in theirs.”

 

“Yeah, Tommy’s dad never heard that.” Oliver said, then nodded to his sister. “Our parents might’ve been gone a lot, dad especially on business, but we always knew they cared. I’m not sure Tommy thinks his dad does.”

 

“After he cut him off?” Thea snorted. “Yeah, that’s a pretty big sign that says ‘I Don’t Care’ right there.”

 

“There might be more to it than that,” Felicity said suggested softly again, but neither Queen sibling really wanted to admit that she was right.

 

Oliver did know she had a point, but like his sister he was busy being offended on his friend’s behalf. Never mind the mystery surrounding exactly how the cut-throat businessman might’ve actually learned how to cut throats. Next to his friend, that had to take last place.

 

Then again, that was why he really should be spending more time with said friend, shouldn’t he? Was _that_ what all of this was really aiming at?

 

And it wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to help his friend. He’d done what he could with the job at _Verdant_. But Tommy wouldn’t accept charity and he wouldn’t go crawling back to his dad, either, so he had to be a lot more careful with his money these days than he ever had been before. He wouldn’t ask for more help, either: just asking for the job had been hard for his friend…

 

Oliver sighed and nodded to his girlfriend again. “He can come downstairs whenever he wants. You already told him that. And didn’t you already bully Digg into working with him?”

 

“Wait,” Thea was frowning confusedly again. “I thought the club’s computer stuff was in the basement?”

 

The vigilante and his girlfriend exchanged a look, and then she answered again before he could even start to think an answer through.

 

“Oliver and Digg have set-up a little gym down there, too,” Felicity admitted, “And there’s some storage space. Nothing all that interesting though, except for my computers, of course—but I’m the only one that can touch those,” she added the last part as a joking warning.

 

Given the fact that her she’d set the system up to essentially explode if anyone who didn’t know the passwords tried to use them, though, it wasn’t really a joke. Not that the vigilante or his pseudo-bodyguard would ever be comfortable in her chair even if that weren’t the case…

 

“Oh, and here I thought you were just doing a lot of push-ups every morning,” Thea admitted to her brother, then she shook her head again. “Well, a lot of your TMZ fans’ll be disappointed if they find out,” she shrugged in response to his confused frown. “A lot of ‘em want to believe you just got super-fit on some crazy ‘island diet,’ not that you do anything to stay in shape now.”

 

“That’s stupid,” Oliver replied, then frowned at her again. “Wait, you read that crap?”

 

Thea shrugged again, “Gotta know what people are saying about us.”

 

“No you don’t,” Oliver told her, still frowning. “That’s what _Q.C_ has a whole P.R department for. You’re not supposed to worry about any of that stuff unless one of them calls.”

 

“Oh, I know,” his sister shrugged yet again. “But I like to know what they’re gonna hit me with.” She went on before her big brother could protest again. “Don’t worry, Ollie. I know better than to _care_ about any of the crap they make up.”

 

Oliver still didn’t like the idea of her having anything to do with Starling City’s most infamous tabloid website. He’d been their favorite subject for years, of course, back before _The Gambit_ , and he didn’t doubt that they still had some things to say about him these days like his sister said. But even back then, when he’d been a basically useless partying playboy, ninety percent of the shit that they printed about him had next to no basis in reality. The Queen lawyers went after them for the really bad stuff, but after he’d peed on a cop while drunk they’d basically backed off on a lot of it. He hadn’t cared then, and didn’t care what they were saying about him now. But the thought that some of those ever-salivating vultures were making up shit about his baby sister these days did not sit well with him at all. Especially after she’d really gotten her act together after the whole Vertigo mess: it wasn’t fair…

 

But then the world wasn’t fair, was it?

 

And it wasn’t like he could start hunting down reporters as the Arrow and threaten them into leaving Thea Queen alone, tempting though that really, really was…

 

“No, he spends most of his time on the salmon ladder,” Felicity told her.

 

Thea blinked at her, “What’s that?”

 

“A work of art,” Felicity actually answered with a straight face while her boyfriend smirked and his sister blinked again.

 

“O-kay…” Thea said, glancing between the two of them uncertainly; clearly trying to work out if the other woman was joking or not.

 

She wasn't, and that just made Oliver's smirk widen.

 

Felicity kept going before she could figure it out, but more time probably wouldn’t have helped—because it both was and wasn’t an inside joke. “And yes, I did ask Digg, and he agreed. And I asked Tommy, too,” she acknowledged, shaking her head again as she went on. “But he won’t feel like he has the right to be there—like he’s welcome—until _you_ tell him he does and he is.”

 

“Did he say that?” Oliver frowned now, not able to picture it.

 

“He didn’t have to. You know it’s true.”

 

“And why don’t you want to spend time with your best buddy anyway?” Thea asked him, half in support and half in concern.

 

The vigilante knew they were right, but before he could make himself admit it Felicity was suddenly on her feet and headed for the front door while he blinked after her. “What…” he trailed off, instead standing himself as she swung the door open: just in time to see a small group of athletic people slowing to a stop as they reached her front stoop. Every one of them was fighting trim: the morning jog was enough to get there blood and some perspiration going, but none of them looked the worse for wear, or even a little out of breath.

 

“Oh good, you’re back,” Felicity greeted the group with a welcoming smile. “There’s water, juice and tea in the kitchen. Help yourselves, all of you.”

 

“Thank you, ‘Ama,” the only woman in the group gave her a smile and a nod that looked almost like the start of a bow before she headed for the kitchen like she’d been bid.

 

“Yes, much appreciated, Alqadima, but not necessary,” Navid said as he closed the back door behind him on his way in, with an impressive balance between authority and respect managed all in his voice and the bow of his head.

 

Though what had Oliver’s own head the most surprised was the timing of it all. It made sense that Navid would take over now if he was in charge of the security detain, but how had he known his charge was back from the other side of the house? Did he have a tracker of some kind on her? Or a communications setup that was hidden better than anything the vigilante had seen before?

 

And what had he called Felicity? ‘Al-kwa-dema?’ What did that mean?

 

For that matter, how had _Felicity_ known that her cousin was back before they even reached her front door?

 

“We will prepare for the day now. We have all we need next door. You will wait here for us?” Navid directed the last at the raven-haired woman who was currently refilling her glass with more water after she’d finished the first one.

 

Obviously the woman had to be Nyssa, Felicity’s cousin. Though she didn’t look much like his girlfriend—but then she wouldn’t, would she? Not if her father, too, was part of the family that Felicity had been _adopted_ into sometime after her mother’s death.

 

Most people would think a man with that much gray hair was too far past his prime to be a good bodyguard, but all of Navid’s experience was all too easy to see in the way those sharp eyes cut across every part of the room. Not to mention the authority that all of his men easily obeyed.

 

“Of course,” Nyssa replied, raising her refilled glass in an almost salute before she started drinking again. Just sipping at the second glass, though, not downing it like she had the first one.

 

Felicity didn’t look particularly impressed by any of them, but why would she be? It wasn’t like any of them were openly demonstrating just how dangerous each and every one was. She made it look awful easy to ignore the gray-haired man’s authority as she rolled her eyes when his gaze went back to her after his charge’s acknowledgement. “Yes, we’ll wait here, Navid,” she assured him after that eye roll.

 

And it wasn’t out of any disrespect. If his girlfriend was even capable of showing someone outright disrespect, Oliver hadn’t seen it yet. That sarcastic eye roll spoke more of a familiar camaraderie with the man that didn’t make sense unless Felicity had known him for a long time. Then again, maybe she had. If the man worked with her uncle and was trusted enough to look after his daughter, she probably would have met him in the past…

 

“Very good, Alqadima,” the gray-haired but somehow still deadly-looking man actually did bow his head this time: completely respectful and not even a little bothered by Felicity’s blasé response. He waived the three younger men that’d been running with them away then, but instead of following them out the still open front door, he looked over at Oliver, who had by then come over to stand at his girlfriend’s side.

 

Felicity somehow rolled her eyes again as she glanced between them, but then she did start the expected introductions. “Oliver, Thea, this is my cousin, Nyssa Raatko,” she indicated the dark-haired woman who was walking back over from the kitchen with her now half-full glass in hand. Then she gestured to the guard. “Nyssa, this is my boyfriend, Oliver Queen. And his sister, Thea.”

 

“It is an honor to meet you, Mister Queen,” Nyssa said with a level of formality that would’ve been a lot less surprising coming from her gray-haired bodyguard. It even looked like she was about to bow as she finished, but she caught herself and offered only a respectful nod instead. “And you as well, Miss Queen.”

 

“Indeed, it is,” Navid said with just as much solemnity in his voice, then he did bow, again, even though he’d been introduced to them already.

 

Oliver glanced between the two with a bit of bewilderment that hopefully wasn’t showing, though from the little grin he could see on his girlfriend’s face now: it was. “Nice to meet you, too,” he said a little lamely, not able to think of anything better.

 

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Thea echoed through a polite smile that almost didn’t look like it was expertly pasted on. The interest in her eyes made it real as she focused on the raven-haired woman. “But call me Thea, please.”

 

This time Felicity’s cousin did bow her head ever so slightly—it had to be called a bow because it was too deep to be a nod, even if it ended as quickly as it’d begun. “A pleasure to meet you, Thea.”

 

“You too,” Thea nodded back, her smile looking more real just from that even as she glanced from one person to the next.

 

They all stood like that for a long moment, three sets of eyes all silently appraising while the fourth—Felicity—looked like she was silently laughing at them all.

 

For his part, Oliver really wanted to know why his girlfriend’s cousin set off just as many of the silent alarms going off in his head as her august bodyguard did. And if this was the some-sort-of-cousin who might be a spy or something similar, what should he expect from the uncle and brothers that almost _had_ to be in the same line of work, too?

 

“Okay,” Felicity cut into the silence then with a smile that wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement. “I’m already ready for work, and I’ll be leaving in twenty minutes. So if you two are going to follow me around all day, you’d better go get ready,” she shrugged while Oliver blinked at her. “Or you could do something fun while I’m at work instead.”

 

Nyssa immediately shook her head. “Lovely as your home is, ‘Ama, I am here for you.”

 

“It’ll be boring, but if you insist,” Felicity shrugged.

 

“I do,” her cousin nodded, and then she turned towards the guest room. “I will be ready momentarily.”

 

“As shall I,” Navid said with a bow of his head towards all of them, though it looked like it might be angled more towards Felicity, which was odd since it was Felicity’s cousin who was his charge.

 

But Oliver nodded back because Felicity did, watching as the grizzled man reopened the front door to leave, which allowed those inside to see that the men he’d sent away a few minutes ago were all already back—clean and wearing suits for the work day.

 

Fast and efficient—reliable, which was good. And said a lot about the organization they worked for, too, though not nearly enough to spell out its exact name.

 

Then the guest room door closed, too, and they were alone again in her living room. Well, almost alone. This Nyssa _was_ just on the other side of that door, and three of her bodyguards were right outside. Though none of them would likely try to listen in like the teen had a little while ago, and Thea was still right here.

 

Still, Oliver took the opportunity to catch his girlfriend’s gaze again as they walked back to the couch together. “Am I missing something here?” he asked her, not sure if he should be worried or not.

 

The strange undercurrents that’d just been in the room were hard for him to make heads, tails, or any other kind of coin toss out of them…

 

Felicity sighed, “I know it’s odd for my cousin to come to work with me,” she winced. “Do you think your mom will mind?”

 

“No,” Oliver answered easily, because his mother would probably be thrilled to meet anyone in Felicity’s family. She might not even ask about the whole group of bodyguards that were going to have _Q.C’s_ own security on edge all day long.

 

They wouldn’t be watching them like hawks though. The comparison wouldn’t work with this lot. Maybe blue jays or cardinals? Because Navid Ad’as was definitely more like a bird of prey than any employee Oliver had met at _Queen_ _Consolidated Tower_.

 

For that matter, Felicity’s cousin was, too.

 

“Mom _adores_ you, Felicity. She won’t care,” Thea reassured her, then she shrugged. “Besides, it’s Saturday. You said  _Q.C_ ’s not really open, right?”

 

“Not technically, no,” the genius acknowledged with a little smile, which only made Oliver want to ask more about this cousin that’d appeared so unexpectedly and looked nothing like her.

 

But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to think too much more about any of that. Not right now, anyway. Those thoughts would only lead to all of the questions they weren’t ready for yet—either of them. Questions that would have to be both asked and answered all too soon as it was, but hopefully not _too_ soon all together…

 

“No, I guess she wouldn’t mind,” Felicity agreed with a sigh that was all her aggravation at herself again.

 

It took Oliver a second to remember that were kind of talking about his mother now, but by then she’d gone on.

 

“Your mom doesn’t let much bother her—or she’s good at hiding it.”

 

“Yeah, she’s definitely good at that,” Thea snorted.

 

Felicity frowned. “I hope she’s not hiding it too much around me.”

 

Oliver blinked at her again. “What?”

 

“If I bother her at—”

 

“You don’t bother her,” Oliver interrupted firmly. “Compared to me and Thea, you’re an angel. She already loves you.”

 

“She really does,” Thea added insistently. “I wasn’t kidding about the adoring you thing.”

 

No she wasn’t.

 

For that matter, Felicity _was_ an angel compared to anyone as far as he was concerned. But she clearly didn’t agree: her frown had gotten deeper.

 

“Something’s bothering her,” Felicity sighed. “Maybe it’s not me, but…” she trailed off, and now it was his turn to frown.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

His girlfriend sighed. “It’s hard to explain. She’s… distracted sometimes? And really focused—almost too focused, sometimes, too. To balance it out, maybe? You haven’t seen that?”

 

“I… I don’t think so?” Thea answered uncertainly, frowning as she looked to her brother for reassurance as she realized that this was something that Felicity wouldn’t allow to be shrugged off.

 

Oliver thought about it for a moment, then he slowly shook his head again. “No. She was fine last night. Normal,” he paused, then admitted, “That was with me and Thea though, at home,” he shook his head. “She’s home even less than me these days. You probably see more of her than I do.”

 

That was a very obvious statement. So obvious, in fact, that she didn’t even respond to it. Instead she still looked thoughtful.

 

“Maybe you should spend some more time with her?” Felicity suggested hesitantly, and she went on even as he frowned. “You could try to get her away from the office more, couldn’t you? She’s like that, I think.”

 

She would, Oliver knew that was true without needing to think about it at all. His mother was always after both of her children to spend more time as a family. Her busy weekdays since Walter’s disappearance had cut into the number of hours she could see or ask them for anything. But Oliver knew his mother would still jump at the chance to spend more time with him. And Thea. She had last night, and his sister had, too—with all the expected eye rolls, of course…

 

 “Yeah, she would,” Thea latched on, her eyes now more hopeful than worried as she looked at her brother. “Could we?”

 

He’d done dinner and a movie at the mansion to spend time with his mother and his sister just last night though. And they’d already planned the same thing next weekend, which both Moira and Thea Queen had seemed very happy with. And both had mentioned he should invite Felicity, too.

 

His girlfriend could guess all of that, though, so was she just trying to get rid of him now? If she wanted some time alone with her unexpected visiting family member, she could just say so. She knew that, though, so why all of this?

 

…The only thing Oliver could think of was that she really _was_ worried about his mom. And how had he missed everything she was talking about?

 

“She puts on a brave face,” Felicity told him quietly then, like she was reading his mind. “For both of you. Moms do that.”

 

Oliver sighed, this time because he knew she was right and there was no way to even ask his mother about anything like that, let alone any way to actually get her to change at all. It wasn’t like he could argue against it: he was guilty of it, or close enough to it, too.

 

Before he could think of any response the guest room door opened and Felicity’s cousin—who really did look nothing like her—stepped out with a little smile on her face as she glanced between them. And he had to blink at her because she looked completely put together and ready for a day at the office—he didn’t think women _could_ get ready that quickly, but apparently this one could.

 

“So sorry to interrupt,” Nyssa murmured as she headed for the kitchen again. “You did say we need to go soon, ‘Ama.”

 

“I did, and we do,” Felicity agreed, offering her cousin a nod before she gave him another little smile. “You just might want to talk to her, okay? Maybe at _Q.C?_ Without Thea?”

 

“Wait, why without me?” his sister immediately wanted to know.

 

“Your mom might be more willing to show weakness to your brother,” Felicity pointed out gently.

 

“Why? He’s the one that just came back from the dead a few months ago,” Thea disagreed with all the conviction only a teenage daughter could have regarding her mother. “And _he’s_ still got her up on this great big pedestal that—”

 

“Don’t try to fool yourself, Thea,” Felicity cut in then, still speaking too gently for Thea to really get angry at her, which seemed to be working well so far. “You still have a pretty high image of her in your head, too.”

 

“No I—”

 

“You do,” Felicity insisted, still ever-so-gentle. “That’s why you’re so disappointed or angry any time you think she’s done something wrong.” She shrugged. “And that’s not unusual. Especially when it comes to kids and their parents.” She kept going as the teenager stared at her. “And your mom’s used to that, but it’ll only make showing weakness that much harder for her.”

 

Thea shook her head. “She doesn’t have to live up to some stupid ideal for me,” she insisted mulishly.

 

“But she does, Thea. For you. And Oliver. And for herself.”

 

Thea paused for half a second: thrown enough by the last add on to derail her next protest. “For herself?” she repeated with another frown.

 

“The way we think of ourselves is always important,” Felicity nodded, still speaking in that oh so gentle tone that Oliver was surprised his sister was reacting so well to. “It’s our roadmap for how we act, and react, in every situation.”

 

Oliver nodded slowly, “For mom that’s always been about us, Thea,” he shrugged. “And living up to all the expectations of the Queen name, too: but mostly us.”

 

His sister clearly didn’t like what she was hearing, but that wasn’t going to change anything.

 

Both Oliver and his mother always tried to be strong for Thea. And he knew his mother tried for him, too, but checking on her at work was probably a good idea. At the very least he might see some clue of what it was that had his girlfriend worried about her…

 

Once his mother had decided to take over in Walter’s absence, she’d jumped right into it: out of the bedroom and into the boardroom, like Thea had said, giving both her kids a little bit of whiplash. She’d been going strong ever since, but before that she _had_ been shut away in her bedroom, not even trying to hide her worry for Walter—or her fear that he may be dead—at all. Getting out of that dark focus had seemed like it could only be a good thing for her, but she might have just switched her focus to the family business to hide behind. So checking in on her at _Queen Consolidated_ had to be a good idea.

 

“Oliver?”

 

He looked at her again, and blinked as he realized that all three women were watching him still, clearly waiting for his answer. “I’ll stop by for lunch today,” he decided, then asked his girlfriend. “You could join us? Both of you,” he indicated the quiet, respectful woman who was mostly still just watching them.

 

But Felicity was shaking her head before he’d even finished asking. “That’d kind of defeat the purpose.”

 

“And we have much to discuss, ‘Ama,” Nyssa spoke up from where she was watching them from in the kitchen again. She seemed to be working with an elaborate-looking tealeaf strainer over the third travel mug on the counter. The other two were the ones that he and Felicity always took full of coffee, which were already waiting on the counter. Oh well, he’d been meaning to try Felicity’s tea anyway. It _might_ be almost as good as her coffee. Maybe.

 

“Yes, we do. Though I think Thea and I need to talk first.”

 

“What?” the teen blinked at her.

 

Felicity chuckled, “That’s why you’re here with Oliver this morning, isn’t it?”

 

“Well, yeah, but…” Thea shook her head. “It’s not important.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Felicity told her. “And I have to get to work soon, but Oliver will need some time to talk to your mom anyway.”

 

Oliver blinked at her. “I can’t just drop in now. She’ll be in meetings—”

 

“No she won’t. There aren’t any today,” Felicity told him, sighing as she gave him another smile. “Your mom will open up to you, I’m sure she will. And that’ll give Thea and I time to chat.”

 

Oliver knew she was right, but so much was strange about this morning that he almost wanted to argue anyway. He didn’t—he knew better. But it took him a whole second to make himself nod. “You’re right,” he said, almost able to hide his unhappiness at that fact. Then he glanced between the two ladies as he asked, “Are you two ready to go?” he looked the brunette as he added, “Your security—”

 

“Have transportation of their own, of course,” Nyssa interrupted smoothly, still stirring her tea with the strainer thing. “However, Al-Owal will have to ride with us.”

 

Oliver wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t say so because Felicity was nodding.

 

“Of course. I’m sure Digg’ll want to meet Navid anyway. Professional courtesy, or something like that,” she shrugged as she finished.

 

So ‘Al-Owal’ was another name for Navid As’ad, the head bodyguard. A little strange, but then again Felicity’s cousin seemed to have a second name for everyone. ‘Al-Owal’ for her gray-haired personal security head. ‘Ama’ for Felicity—but the old guy called Felicity something else, too.

 

Oliver wasn’t sure what to make of it, exactly. Was it just something she did, and maybe something he should anticipate—earning a nickname of his own or just getting one? Or was it yet another indicator that Felicity’s family was neck deep in some sort of espionage work?

 

Felicity herself had accepted the switching names without so much as batting her eyes, but then not much fazed his girlfriend. Oliver had seemed ample proof of that many times now.

 

But asking any questions now wouldn’t get him any worthwhile answers, not yet. And those questions could all too easily lead to the kinds of arguments they’d somehow managed to avoid so far. Or not ‘somehow,’ really—he knew how. Felicity had circumvented and redirected those conversations just as skillfully as she handled her computers, and she kept accepting his clumsier efforts at it, too. So he kept doing the same: again and again.

 

And now again.

 

Oliver offered the ladies a smile that tried to be more sincere than the usual mask he wore for the everyday role of ‘Oliver Queen, but going by the slight wince his girlfriend quickly suppressed—and his sister hadn’t even tried to—he hadn’t completely pulled it off. “I’ll let Digg know then.”

 

“Al-Owal—Navid, I mean,” Nyssa shook her head at herself even as she finished telling him, “He shall return shortly.”

 

Oliver nodded. “He said that. But I should still let Digg—my bodyguard, John Diggle—know about all of this. He’ll be outside by now.”

 

Their third teammate was already going to be wondering about the group of fighters that’d run up to Felicity’s door and now had some of them stationed outside on the steps.

 

Never mind that all of them leaving their charge alone here when Felicity’s cousin was the one they were supposed to be protecting didn’t make much sense…

 

“Is he already here?” Felicity asked, and went on without waiting for confirmation. “Why doesn’t he just come in? I told him he could.”

 

“He planned to meet us here,” Oliver told her calmly, not remotely willing to have this argument in front of Felicity’s cousin either.

 

It was strange enough with Thea watching, wearing her half-amused, half-exasperated expression that she’d gotten so much better at as a teenager. He was used to her curious eyes though; Felicity’s cousin would take some getting used to. Her dark eyes were curious, too, but there was a studious depth to her curiosity that Thea didn’t have. Evaluation, maybe. And a quiet—almost silent—sharpness that his baby sister would never have.

 

“Well, let’s not keep him waiting then,” Felicity said with a sigh leading the way to her front door while the others all followed closely. For a second he thought that his girlfriend’s cousin would try to rush ahead of them all, to get the door or something like that, but she clearly thought better of it.

 

When the front door was opened, Oliver wasn’t at all surprised to see that Navid had already returned, ready to go and impeccable just as fast as all of his men. Not surprised—but a little impressed. It wasn’t easy to look presentable in a suit that quickly, especially with the perfectly knotted tie—Oliver usually dropped that part himself if he could. He hadn’t liked ties all that much before he’d personally—physically—learned how to strangle people. Sure, he was strong enough to be confident that he’d be able to fight free from most peoples’ holds before he ran out of air, but that didn’t mean he liked having anything tight around his neck at all.

 

“God, he’s actually here,” Thea said when she saw that Digg had, as expected, arrived with the requested limousine. “Poor guy.”

 

“Believe it or not, I pay him pretty well, Thea,” Oliver told her.

 

And it was true. It was a well known expectation that their family wanted only the best and they were willing to pay for it. That was something their parents had drilled into Oliver’s head: nothing in this world was free. He didn’t know if the same lessons had gotten drummed down to Thea by their mom, and maybe Walter, after _The Gambit_ : it was usually his dad driving them into Oliver’s head.

 

But that respectable salary was what Oliver’s mother had hired John Diggle on as her son’s bodyguard for. When Oliver hired him back—as a partner in saving this city, not as just some hanger on he had to keep ditching—he’d gotten an equally respectable raise. Not enough to make the Queen accountants bring it to his mother’s attention, or at least not enough for her to care if they had, but enough to make sure Digg should have a nice little nest egg stored away just in case his boss did end up behind bars…

 

“Yeah, well you’d better,” Thea snorted, shaking her head, “‘Specially if you keep calling him when he’s supposed to be off.”

 

Oliver sighed, but didn’t otherwise respond as he followed the group down to the street. “Diggle, Felicity’s cousin is visiting,” he explained calmly, before indicating the two nearby S.U.V’s and the men that were watching them in return, though that was something he was sure the ex-soldier had noticed already. “Along with her security detail.”

 

He’d probably spotted the pair on motorcycles further back, too. That sort of thing was in his actual job description, after all. But there wasn’t any harm in pointing them out.

 

“Good morning, Digg,” Felicity greeted him pleasantly. “This is Nyssa. Nyssa, this is Oliver’s bodyguard, John Diggle.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, Mister Diggle,” the woman murmured.

 

Digg nodded to her, “Pleased to meet you, too, ma’am,” he answered evenly, comfortable behind the mask of professionalism that wouldn’t let him outright ask what the hell was going on. The fact that he was wearing it, though, basically asked anyway.

 

“Again, I do apologize in advance for any and all difficulties my security detail will cause,” Nyssa said, focusing first on Felicity but somehow including Oliver, Thea and Diggle with the sweep of her dark but somehow bright eyes. “My father is, perhaps, over-protective, but there are times when it is necessary.”

 

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Digg agreed.

 

“Quite true,” Navid spoke up then, moving forward enough to offer the bodyguard his hand—all while his men moved simultaneously to ensure there was no opening in the protective circle they had around their charge. “Mister Diggle, I am Navid As’ad. I am in charge of Miss Raatko’s detail.”

 

Digg nodded as he shook the older man’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

 

Navid nodded back, then said, “Now we had best be on our way. I believe Doctor Smoak has some work she would like to do.”

 

“That I do,” Felicity agreed. “But all of your guys are _not_ coming up into my office.”

 

“They will wait in the lobby, ‘Ama,” Nyssa told her calmly, which for some reason earned her a frown from Diggle that was gone as soon as it’d come.

 

Oliver still noted it though. And made the connection a second later. John Diggle spoke Arabic—he’d studied it in college and, of course, used it extensively while serving with Special Forces in the Middle East. As far as his employer knew that was the only language other than English that Digg had in his arsenal, and his _ARGUS_ background check had seemingly covered everything important so far. So it was safe to assume that the titles or endearments he hadn’t understood were spoken in that language and his pseudo-bodyguard knew what they meant. When he was driving them to _Queen Consolidated_ in the same vehicle as Thea, Felicity, her cousin and said cousin’s head-bodyguard wasn’t the time to bring that up.

 

“That’ll do,” Felicity agreed with a very put upon sigh, then she turned her attention to her boyfriend’s sister. “So, what drew you away from both bed and the breakfast worth getting up for this morning?”

 

Thea blinked at her, but then shook her head as Diggle turned them off of Felicity’s street. “I told you, I just wanted to make sure you were still coming to dinner.”

 

“I said I would, and you could’ve asked that in a text,” Felicity shrugged. “But okay, you don’t have to tell all of us if you don’t want to.” She looked at Oliver then, which his sister didn’t even try to hide her relief about—then again, she wasn’t objecting to the suggestion that she was hiding something either, so that wasn’t too surprising. “Sorry again, about all of this.”

 

Oliver turned his attention from confirming that yes, there were two motorcycles in their impromptu motorcade, too, to meet her eyes with a frown. “For what? If you cousin needs bodyguards, then she needs them even when she’s visiting here, right?”

 

“I do not need them,” Nyssa interjected into the conversation.

 

“No, but your father does,” Felicity reminded her with a gentle chuckle.

 

The other woman only shrugged in apparent acceptance before she turned her attention to the teenager sitting across from her. “You are still in school, Miss Queen?”

 

Thea blinked in surprise at the attention, but her practiced smile was on her face just as quickly. “High school, yeah. Graduate in a few months.”

 

“Congratulations,” Nyssa nodded; her gentle smile somehow reminiscent of Felicity’s, but then maybe Oliver was only seeing that because he was looking and this was his girlfriend’s cousin even if they didn’t look that much alike. “Do you plan to go to college after that?”

 

“I guess,” Thea’s smile started to slip a little, but she forced it back on right away. “I might take a gap year first.”

 

That was news to Oliver, but then he hadn’t heard his mother and sister talking about colleges at all, so maybe this was why. Then again, she had been able to bring her grades up enough to graduate and had already met all the D.A’s demand for her plea agreement but the whole Vertigo disaster probably hadn’t done great things for her college acceptance process. While many schools had been more than willing to forgive his poor grades and all the partying that’d just gotten worse after high school in exchange for all the money his parents could throw at them, they might not be so forgiving of drugs. It wasn’t fair, but the world never was…

 

“See the world a bit first?” Felicity suggested, still smiling. “That’s a great idea. Used to be the norm, too. In a lot of places, anyway.”

 

“Among the higher classes in Europe, for the most part,” the grey-haired guy up front offered, surprising Oliver and Thea because it was a little strange for this setting, but Felicity and Nyssa didn’t seem surprised at all.

 

“I think you’ll find it was more worldwide then that, if you really look at the history,” Felicity shrugged. “And the ‘gap’ year is becoming pretty normal now.” She looked back at the teen as she asked. “Any idea what you’ll do?”

 

Thea blinked at her again, then shook her head, “N-Not really, no,” she admitted, looking down. Making her brother unhappily suspect that this really did tie back to the Vertigo thing. Damn it.

 

“Well, you could travel,” Nyssa spoke up, sounding even gentler. “There is much to see around the world.”

 

“There is,” Felicity agreed when the teen only shrugged. “You could volunteer, too, if you wanted. I’m sure they’d love to keep you on at _C.N.R.I_ , but there are a lot of other places that need help, too, right here in Starling. Or elsewhere.”

 

“What? Like the building houses thing?” Thea blinked at her, seemingly startled out of her strange shyness by the strangeness of the suggestion.  

 

“Like that. Or there are a lot of places you could go to help people learn English simply by talking to them. Or you could volunteer at the hospital.” Felicity shook her head, still smiling softly. “There’s plenty of things that need to get done around the world, Thea, just waiting for people to do it.”

 

“I guess there are…” Thea agreed slowly, seemingly starting to think it over.

 

Oliver wasn’t so sure their mother would be crazy about the idea if it led to her baby girl going off somewhere outside of her control entirely. But she was eighteen now. Old enough to vote, at least, and he and his mother both needed to learn how to let go at least a little bit…

 

“Or you could just travel for fun—sight-seeing, maybe a few good museums and art galleries thrown in for education,” Felicity shrugged again. “And you could volunteer around here. Or not. It really is up to you.”

 

“It’s your choice, Thea,” Oliver somehow found himself saying, and it was somehow said without a groan or even a wince at the idea. He’d heard his girlfriend’s favorite cornerstone for most arguments more than once: it wasn’t hard for him to see how it applied here. But he also couldn’t say it was wrong, so…

 

“Thanks,” his sister offered quietly.

 

Oliver only nodded back, then sat and listened as the two women continued to gently draw the teenager out. All in all it was a nice peek into his sister’s mind—even if she refused to talk about what she actually wanted to see his girlfriend for this more. Namely, help with introducing Roy Harper to their mother. Another thing he didn’t really want to see, but knew he had to grin and bear it. Or at least not say anything negative if he didn’t want to get his head bitten off. He was _not_ looking forward to dinner tonight.

 

And brunch tomorrow would be even worse. Why did Felicity even want to go if she hated that necklace so much? But he couldn’t ask her that here and now either.

 

So he’d wait. Something was actually getting used to, though all the added variables in play at least made it more and more interesting.

* * *

 ** _In the Shadows_**.

A part of Sara had never expected to see Starling City again, so she shouldn’t be surprised by how much this hurt…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, there we have it. They’ve met!  
> How was it? Awesome? Horrible? Somewhere in the middle? …Would the middle be “okay” or just “blah, who cares?”  
> Once again I feel the need to apologize for the length of time between updates. Unfortunately it’s not likely to diminish all that much unless my muses start to be more helpful. I have a lot of this story pre-written, but some important scenes still need work and they just haven’t been coming together. Hitting my head on the particular writer’s block has been rather painful—but that might just be that the pollen count is insanely high right now. I’ve seen several actual clouds of pollen. Little yellow particles just polluting the air and making me sneeze like crazy, occasionally cry just because my eyes have to protect themselves and frequently cleaning my nasal passages to try and stave off the headaches. I want a lot of rain. It’s a weird feeling. I love sunshine, but sunlight through clouds/fogs of pollen just isn’t as pretty…  
> Okay, I’ll stop whining about that and confess to another sort of problem. Several people dear to me keep pointing out that I should be writing more than fan fiction. Publishing to make money and all. So, I’ll admit, I do have plans to put much more effort into that this summer. Hopefully my muses will keep launching this series at me and it won’t come to a standstill as a result. Comments—encouraging ones and constructive criticism especially—do help there. PLEASE let me know what you think. I love to read about it.  
> Thank you so much for reading!


	4. In the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, I’m sorry, again, for yet another unintentionally long wait. Work hasn’t been cooperating at all—and to top it all off I’ve caught a summer cold now, so I haven’t wanted to do much more than hydrate and sleep. But this chapter almost wrote itself once I forced myself to look at it, and it was a pretty poignant point-of-view, so I hope it was worth the wait.  
> I’m sure a few of you will consider it simply another filler chapter, but truthfully that designation could be applied to the majority of my chapters—and filler doesn’t mean meaningless or unnecessary. If you pay attention you can pick up details that’ll be relevant later. Granted, there’s a LOT of those scattered throughout this series, so don’t feel bad if you miss one or two until it either explodes or sneaks back into the story later on…  
> Anyway, enjoy the new chapter and let me know what you think! ;-)

**_Chapter 4: In the Shadows_ **

 

_ Sara Lance’s P.O.V. _

 

Sara knew better than to stare—even the most oblivious of targets tended to feel eyes on them if they were watch long enough. But she couldn’t help herself when she first saw the brunette who’d decided to drop by with her big brother this morning for his girlfriend’s apparently regular ride to work. Astonishing regularity for Oliver, but _God_ , Thea looked like an _adult_ now. The youngest Queen was just a little girl the last time Sara saw her: that long brown hair was always tied up in cute little pigtails or braids that streamed after her as she tried to follow Ollie and Tommy around. Now Thea was all but grown up.

 

Then again, the youngest Queen was graduating from high school this spring, wasn’t she? Probably headed off to college next year—not much younger than Sara herself had been when she’d snuck on board _The Queen’s Gambit_ to steal her sister’s boyfriend and the whole world had gone to hell for years after that…

 

Watching Al-Thaelib convince the Lance family to drop their doomed search had been hard enough from afar. Considering the role the Fox had been given—that of the ignorant stranger trying to be helpful—she had probably been too gentle with Sara’s parents. But even Nyssa hadn’t had the heart to call her on it, and Sara couldn’t do it. Especially not after she’d had to watch her mother hurry away to hide her tears, while her father had fought off that same grief to ask the few questions he had to get out in order to accept the ‘truth’ again himself. Both were painful reactions she’d expected though.

 

Laurel’s reaction was the unexpected one. Or lack thereof a reaction, really—something Sara couldn’t have ever envisioned of her do-gooder big sister. At first she’d just assumed the lawyer was putting on a brave face because they were surrounded by her colleagues at _C.N.R.I_ , but going by the heated words she’d heard from her sister’s apartment after the rest of the Lance’s got home that wasn’t the case. Sara hadn’t liked planting the bugs in Laurel’s home, but it’d needed to be done as part of proving that her family was no threat to the League. So now she knew that Laurel had already been stewing over her suspicions. Specifically on why their mother was so sure her youngest had to still be alive—on why her second daughter couldn’t be dead.

 

That it would be a _hat_ of all things to make her so sure, though, was something completely out of left field. That something like that—wearing her home city’s team’s hat on the other side of the world—would come back to haunt her like that wasn’t something Sara could’ve imagined. It wasn’t like any of her personal belongings _had_ survived the shipwreck, after all. They were at the bottom of the ocean. Or maybe some of them were pulled up with the boat after Missus Q had it salvaged. Even the lingerie she’d still been wearing when she was pulled aboard the _Amazo_ had been burned soon afterwards. Nothing else from _The Gambit_ survived the shipwreck _with_ her.

 

The hat that Sara had been wearing in Zhengjiu wasn’t the one she’d stuffed into her bag when her mom was trying to talk her out of going on the boat with Ollie. It was a replacement. A silly little gift that Nyssa had bought for her a few years back: and one of the very few personal possessions Sara had bothered to keep for herself at Nanda Parbat. Now, though, she wasn’t even sure she should ask for it back when Al-Thaelib completed her mission here in Starling City…

 

She shouldn’t be surprised that her mother had latched onto that picture, though—that hat in that town. The Chinese had a knack for naming places. Lian Yu was certainly was hell for more than a few people, herself included, but perhaps Purgatory was a better name. That, at least, you could escape from if you fought hard enough to stay alive. She thought that the little fishing village whose name meant ‘Salvation,’ might have just been named that because of the harbor that acted as safe haven to so many fishermen even in the fiercest of storms. After all, the target she’d finally tracked down in that tiny town had still died there, despite the false hope in its name.

 

Still, that name—that false hope—had been yet another piece of hope for her mother to latch onto when she translated what the location’s name meant from Mandarin to English. It hurt to crush that hope, to crush her mother’s heart like that. Her dad’s, too. It’d hurt like hell to watch, no matter how gentle Al-Thaelib had tried to be. But it’d still had to be done, so it was done.

 

“ _It does not do to dwell, Ta-er al-Usfar,_ ” Al-Shahid murmured from his spot in the shadows a few feet to her left.

 

Not that they were really hiding. Both of them were dressed for the motorcycles they were sitting on, big face-hiding helmets included. They were the escorts that could peel away from the convoy as needed—to scout ahead and handle any threats that came up as necessary. At the moment, though, they were just waiting for everybody to come out of the Honored One’s house.

 

“ _I’m not,_ ” Sara retorted, even though she knew she wasn’t even fooling herself.

 

“ _You are,_ ” Al-Shahid replied evenly, “ _And you know it._ ”

 

He was one to talk. The man hardly ever said even half as much as he’d just said to her in a single mission, which was actually a little disturbing.

 

Nyssa had actually laughed at her lover’s suspicions regarding Al-Shahid being Ra’s al Ghul’s spy in his daughter’s guards. That she’d immediately afterwards pointed out that _all_ of her guards knelt before her father, owing him their allegiance just as his daughter and her beloved did made sense. But Sara still couldn’t get over his name. Sure, he wasn’t called a spy outright, but ‘The Witness’ wasn’t that far off…

 

And that the same man seemed to be sticking pretty close to Sara herself these days wasn’t reassuring at all…

 

“ _She’s not what I expected,_ ” Sara admitted mostly because the silence was bothering her standing in the shadows of Starling City much more than they usually did. “ _She’s not either of the things I expected…_ ”

 

“ _And what did you expect?_ ” Al-Shahid responded reasonably, and neither one of them needed to clarify who they were talking about because the youngest Queen just wasn’t relevant next to the ancient Honored One they were all here to protect.

 

“ _I don’t know… Someone like Mother Theresa, maybe, just not old—not physically, anyway, but really wise… and a kickass fighter, too, since Nyssa’s always looked up to her._ ” The Canary sighed. “ _And she’s all of those things, but not, you know?_ ” she shook her head again, not quite letting herself babble but still needing to admit all of this to someone.

 

Even if he was spying on her for their master, he at least wouldn’t take immediate offense on the Immortal’s behalf like Nyssa did. No matter how honored the ancient ones were to the League, even this particular one—as Ra’s al Ghul’s sister and _teacher_ —was held on special pedestal by his Heir.

 

“ _And when I found out she’s dating Ollie…_ ” Sara shook her head again. “ _I don’t know…_ ”

 

Al-Shahid was quiet a moment before he asked, “ _You thought the Honored One might be more like the girl you were?_ ”

 

Sara blinked, but then nodded slowly. “ _Or more like my sister,_ ” she shrugged. “ _She’s not, though, and I knew she wouldn’t be, but…_ ”

 

“ _Expectations are never easily managed,_ ” he replied equitably. “ _Most especially when they meet reality._ ”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sara admitted, rolling her eyes.

 

That really was putting it mildly though. The way that little ray of sunshine had wiped the floor with all of them during their unsuccessful ambush had been an eye opener. Sara was sure she wasn’t the only one who’d been wondering if Nyssa hadn’t really come to Starling City to introduce herself to the aunt she’d never met. Or, if she had, maybe she’d found the wrong person. A fool’s thoughts, of course, but the charismatic, bubbly blonde who could switch from playing Oliver’s arm candy to a computer genius heading up a new department in his family’s company at will was a conundrum even before you tried to match the image of the Xena-like woman that Nyssa had described.

 

An actual Amazon Queen. A woman who’d ruled over an empire even long before that as a child queen before she became Immortal as a young adult. Who had gone on from the Amazons only to help Alexander the Great with much of his success… and those were only a few of the tales that Nyssa had shared growing up on. All of which happened long before Ra’s al Ghul had sought out Death only to welcome the guidance of _his_ sister instead.

 

Sara had wondered how such an amazing woman could have been happy working on computers in _Queen Consolidated_ before Ollie found her.

 

But that fighter was still there. Nyssa’s test had more than proved that. And the way Felicitas handled Nyssa and Al-Owal, who both deferred to her so easily, also proved that all that authority was still there when it wanted to come out.

 

So why had she been hiding?

 

Was she still hiding?

 

And how long did she think she could keep hiding when she was dating Starling’s City’s own prince who also happened to be its infamous Vigilante?

 

A noise from the end of the street had Sara glancing that way just in time to see one of the Queen town cars turning onto it. “ _Here’s the bodyguard._ ”

 

“ _As expected,_ ” Al-Shahid nodded. “ _You did say he’d call him._ ”

 

“ _Anyone would’ve guessed that,_ ” Sara snorted. “ _It just made sense that Ollie would call him. Second set of eyes, and all._ ”

 

“ _Of course,_ ” he responded as evenly as he said everything else. It was yet another thing about the man that made it all too easy for her to imagine him reporting her every word and action to Ra’s al Ghul…

 

“ _And there’s Al-Owal,_ ” Sara said unnecessarily as they both watched the much more experienced assassin make his way back to the Honored One’s front door: now impeccably dressed in a suit and tie that fit his role of head bodyguard.

 

Al-Shahid just grunted his acknowledgement, because even if the Queen bodyguard’s timely arrival had been expected the quick return of one of their own was only a matter of course. Even if he only reached the front step just before the front door opened and the woman they were all here to protect led the way out, Nyssa a half-step behind her with the Queen siblings following.

 

Sara didn’t let herself react to the sight of her lover walking alongside the man she’d once foolishly pinned all her youthful hopes on. Her past with Oliver Queen was honestly something she’d settled back on Lian Yu in her own head, and Nyssa simply didn’t care about it. The teenager that’d been just a pre-teen the last time Sara had seen her before today was still harder to accept, but time passed for them all.

 

Well, maybe not for the Immortals, now that Sara thought about it. But even for them everything _did_ change. They didn’t physically age, but they grew wiser, or at least more experienced. All while everything else around them—save for other Immortals—did bow much more obviously to the weight of time…

 

But what the hell did Al-Tamsah think he was doing? The so-called ‘Game’ that some Immortals had been playing for thousands of years didn’t make any kind of sense. What was the point of living forever if you had to do it alone? Besides, basic survival instincts should’ve told the man that inciting the wrath of Ra’s al Ghul would only guarantee an end of his otherwise potentially endless life…

 

Now wasn’t the time for such thoughts, though. They were better served when alcohol could be involved, and she should be focused on the task at hand.

 

So Sara kicked her bike’s brake up and started the engine in the same smooth motion as the limousine and the SUV escort drove past. “ _Here we go._ ”

* * *

NEXT:

**_Sensing Shadows_**.

John Diggle doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head, but he still knows when someone is following him. That they’re supposedly some sort of guard detail for Felicity’s cousin would be more reassuring if he didn’t feel like it was his job to look for people just like them…  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, that was just a short one, but we got to see some of Sara’s thoughts, which included some introspection on the LOA & Immortals. Plus everything else she has to deal with here.  
> Hopefully the next chapter will be ready semi-soon. I’m trying to update Wings of that Butterfly Called Chaos soon, too, so that may delay it a bit, but hopefully my muses will be a little cooperative.  
> Let me know what you think!


	5. Sensing Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Good grief, it’s been a while hasn’t it? Sorry, sorry, sorry! :-(  
> For the list of excuses I have: August was a little crazy, my muses went into hibernation maybe due to the heat, and I played far too much Dragon Age.  
> And I still haven’t updated my Jurassic World crossover. Dammit.  
> I have all these ideas careening around inside my head—for both stories—but when I sit down and start typing it just doesn’t work. I’d tried to make myself have this chapter ready for last week, but it didn’t work. So, sorry again. I hope it was worth the wait…Enjoy!

**_Chapter 5: Sensing Shadows_ **

_ Digg’s P.O.V. _

 

Diggle honestly didn’t mind being called in on his day off. He probably _should_ , since he hadn’t taken a whole day off in a lot longer than he cared to think about. But Carly was working today, so after he’d dropped A.J off for a playdate he’d headed into _Verdant_ for his regular morning workout anyway. Clearly he needed some other hobbies, but he didn’t have the spare time to think about them.

 

Besides, pounding a punching bag was always a better idea than dwelling on his brother’s death and the fact that that murderer was still out there somewhere. Still running free and still killing whoever anyone wanted him to if they had a big enough account to afford it: probably killing plenty of other innocent people for being in the way or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, too. Oliver’s text hadn’t come too long after he started hitting the bag—a good thing since his workout hadn’t done much to keep his mind off of Deadshot at all.

 

And he’d just as soon be here if something was up with their girl anyway. He’d never say that to Felicity though. Oliver might be both brave and dumb enough to risk it as her over-protective boyfriend, but Diggle wasn’t going to turn the brilliant blonde’s ire onto himself unless he absolutely had to.

 

He respected her too much to do that without weighing all of the odds first. As a friend and as one of the most brilliant people he’d ever met. _The_ brightest, maybe. Both by her brilliant brain and by that sunny personality she somehow still had around her doom and gloom vigilante boyfriend—and a now vengeful John Diggle, too.

 

The things that girl could do with her computers were sometimes scary. He’d seen her do more than a few things already that the tech specialists working with Special Forces had called impossible even with all the might of the U.S government and military behind them. And Felicity did it all by _herself_.

 

So if anyone could find Floyd Lawton for him, she could.

 

Unfortunately, it was starting like John _might_ have to brave the blonde’s indignation soon anyway. Too many things kept coming up and _not adding up_ when it came to Felicity Smoak. It was starting to be impossible. And with what they were all involved in, they _had_ to be able to trust each other.

 

Not that he and Oliver didn’t trust Felicity. Despite all her secrets she was just so _trustworthy_ , for lack of a better word. A big part of her bright personality was her sincere compassion and caring. And selflessness. She honestly cared for others—even countless people she didn’t know—a whole lot more than she cared about herself.

 

She’d lay her life on the line for either one of them if needed, not that they’d ever want her to. She’d already done it once when that bastard had snapped his bomb collar around her neck. Her mind had almost immediately leapt to getting away from everyone so that _they_ wouldn’t get hurt if it blew her head off. Trying to get away from John and Oliver to protect _them_ , even though her neck being the one on the line. She’d held up under the life-or-death pressure of _that_ far better than anyone ever could’ve expected.

 

And Felicity had fast become the little sister John had never known he’d wanted until now, and the thought of letting anything happen to her because she wasn’t ready to share her secrets _wasn’t_ okay.

 

At the same time, John knew that getting answers all really boiled down to one simple fact. Felicity wasn’t going to share her big secrets until Oliver was both ready to hear them _and_ ready to share some of his own, too. Give and take and compromise were all essential parts in every relationship—romantic ones especially, but for friendship and effective teamwork, too. The scariest part there was a not-so-simple question: would Oliver Queen ever be ready for _that?_

 

John hoped so. Because he wasn’t sure how much more of this lack of straight answers he could take.

 

The pair of motorcycles that’d been following their motorcade since they’d left Felicity’s street sped past in a non-passing area, making John frown but he didn’t burn rubber to race them. Instead he glanced over at the other man that he’d found himself teamed up with this morning. “Yours?” he asked pointedly.

 

Navid nodded as he answered, “Yes,” but didn’t say anymore.

 

John did frown at the older man then. “Mind telling me ‘bout this threat you’re so worried about?”

 

The other man met his gaze evenly for a long moment, as if considering his response, but his decision was made even before he replied. “Miss Raatko’s father is cautious, Mister Diggle. Such care may seem excessive in America, yet we know it is only wise. As your time in the Middle East must have taught you?”

 

John blinked at that, both because he hadn’t hinted at his having served overseas at all and because he wasn’t used to people from that area of the world using the term ‘Middle East’ at all. Usually they used either their national identity or their cultural ethnicity, depending on the region. As far as he’d seen they weren’t offended by the western identifier for their broad area of the world, they just didn’t use it.

 

But that wasn’t worth asking about, so John just nodded. “Uh-huh. I served two tours in Afghanistan, so yeah, I can see where you’re coming from.” He shook his head then. “But the number of guys you’ve brought with you makes me think you’re expecting trouble here.”

 

“Your city does have some trouble with criminals, I believe,” Navid replied. “As well as your own Robin Hood attempting to bring them to justice, I am told. Being prepared for the worst is always better than the alternative. Caution harms no one.”

 

“And it can save lives,” John agreed, not letting himself glance at the archer’s reflection in the rearview mirror. He continued more sternly. “ _Q.C. Security_ isn’t gonna let all of you past the lobby. Not without at least _some_ notice.”

 

“Of course not,” the other man acknowledged as easily as he’d said everything else. “I would be disappointed if they did without prior clearance; particularly considering we have no actual business with the company itself.”

 

John was worried over what the hell was going on now, but he couldn’t help but be impressed. He’d met plenty of guys who were cool under pressure, but if they were cool as cucumbers _this_ guy was an ice cube in the arctic. John could appreciate that if the older man’s job was to protect Felicity’s cousin, and possibly by extension Felicity. Professional respect and appreciation for what his job was meant that John wasn’t going to go out of his way to give Navid As’ad any trouble—the opposite, he’d help however he could.

 

He had learned one thing though. The people protecting Nyssa Raatko wouldn’t tell him a single thing about her, her family, or anything else they might know. There was real loyalty there—the kind that came from longtime commitment. This wasn’t a mercenary detail… but they didn’t strike him as military, exactly, either…

 

But trying to get blood from a stone was a pure exercise in futility: if you tried hard enough the only blood you’d get was your own. So John didn’t ask any more questions the rest of the way in. He just kept his eyes open and observed.

 

There was plenty for him to see. Nothing threatening save for some of the stunts the motorcycles pulled making more than a few cars honk at them on the highway especially. They moved seamlessly through the highway traffic, scaring more than one car well away from the motorcade even after one of the tail cars made a point of passing him to put the limo in a protective sandwich between them. _That_ move made plenty of sense to him, and honestly John was surprised they hadn’t insisted on leaving Felicity’s street in that formation instead of fixing it once they got onto the highway.

 

What the motorcycles kept doing, though, he couldn’t really make heads or tails from. Once or twice he saw them pull the stunt that caused one of those furious honks. It seemed like they were trying to control the flow of traffic around them, and that was something he’d never seen done before. Sure, watching for unexpected disruptions or detours was one-oh-one when it came to security, but they seemed to think they could make sure that _couldn’t_ happen.

 

John wouldn’t have thought it possible himself, but he was sure that one one of the honking cars might be pulling off its ‘ _Motorcycles Are Everywhere!_ ’ bumper sticker soon; given how angrily they’d been honking after one of the bikes had actually pushed them out of the middle lane. To be fair they _were_ doing more than ten under the speed limit and going that slow on the highway in perfect conditions was all but an invitation for someone to rear-end you. And, of course, maximum speed meant for the shortest possible time—yet another thing that made him sure they were worried about some actual threat out there…

 

Nothing else happened, though, and he pulled into the _Queen Consolidated_ parking garage without any trouble. Instead of driving over to the parking space for the Q.C limos he stopped by the elevators to let his passengers out.

 

And someone finally spoke up from the backseat—not surprisingly it was Felicity. “Digg, just park,” she sighed softly. “We can walk.”

 

John glanced over at the man next to him, assuming the head bodyguard wouldn’t want his client walking even that short distance across the lot.

 

He was surprised again, though, when the man just shrugged. “We will need to park ourselves,” Navid indicated the other vehicles with an all-encompassing gesture since the motorcycles were now alongside them and the lead S.U.V, which had stopped when it realized the limo wasn’t still following. “I assume _Queen Consolidated_ will not mind our parking in the reserved lot?”

 

John hesitated a moment, not sure what to make of the easy-going response when everything else about this drive over indicated they were on high-alert. “No, they won’t,” he answered as he took his foot off the brake, following the S.U.V the rest of the way to the reserve lot, going on ahead when it pulled over for him to do so—and consequently blocked one of the exit ramps as he went by, but maybe that wasn’t by design. “They’re with us,” he told the parking attendant when he got to the gate. “The bikes, too.”

 

“Is everything okay, Mister Diggle?” the kid asked with a frown.

 

“Sure, Dylan. Just a visitor that needs some higher security.”

 

“I’ll let Mister Mills know.”

 

“You do that,” John nodded, hoping that’d be one less thing for him to do this morning.

 

In all likelihood the Q.C Head of Security would meet them at the elevator as a result of that phone call—or an earlier call from one of the security guards watching the cameras closely. John couldn’t blame Mills for his vigilance; the man _had_ somehow lost the company’s C.E.O during his first year on the job—and that was only a few months after his predecessor’s untimely death. Peter Mills couldn’t _know_ that Josiah Hudson’s car crash had anything to do with Walter Steele’s abduction, of course. Even Oliver had been surprised when Felicity had told them about what his step-father had been looking into before his disappearance—the security head’s car crash had breezed right by them before that. Sure, he vaguely remembered hearing about it, but accidents _did_ happen and that’s what they’d thought it was…

 

“You are good at your job,” Navid suddenly said.

 

John glanced over at him again as he was putting the limo into park, turning the keys to kill the engine. “Thanks,” he said flatly, shaking his head. “Not sure how much you can tell that from one commute.”

 

The older man chuckled. “You learn much about a man by observing him,” he offered, before he got out of the limo.

 

John did the same, and wasn’t surprised to see that Oliver was already out and helping Felicity out of the backseat. Neither of them liked to have him actually play the job of limo driver if they could avoid it, though they both put up with it just like he did when needed.

 

Apparently it wasn’t needed for Felicity’s cousin and her entourage, though, because all of them were already out. The woman who looked nothing like Felicity had let herself out, too, and rounded the car to meet up with her cousin on the other side. Thea was the last one out because she hadn’t followed Nyssa out on the other side of the limo like she did more often than not: instead she’d patiently waited to follow Felicity, watching everyone else with clear curiosity but not really concerned. For all the growing up the girl had had to do after the Vertigo disaster, she was still just an innocent kid.

 

Most of the security detail had seamlessly assembled around them by the time Felicity was standing outside the car. The only ones who weren’t were the drivers of the S.U.V’s and the motorcycle riders—they were apparently going to keep the engines warm. Yet another factor that pointed to a state of high alert…

 

“You have to check in with Tommy this morning, don’t you?” Felicity asked Oliver as they started to walk towards the elevators, sounding like she didn’t even notice all the armed guards around her each step of the way. Somehow she looked just as light and carefree as she sounded, though she wasn’t smiling as she waited for her boyfriend’s answer.

 

Oliver was nowhere near as relaxed. He was on-edge: tensed for a fight, and while his head wasn’t quite on a swivel his sharp eyes were scanning their surroundings for any potential danger.

 

Given the situation, it was more than understandable. They didn’t have even a vague idea of what Nyssa Raatko’s guards were worried about, but what was going on around them wasn’t just simple security or ‘paranoid precautions.’ There was an actual threat that they were worried about, and that’d bother John even if all these people surrounding their group didn’t feel more like being enclosed by a wolf pack probably would…

 

“Oliver?” Felicity frowned at her boyfriend when he didn’t answer right away.

 

The vigilante blinked at her, startled from some thoughts of his own. Or from his protective hovering—though with his sister here, too, he was stuck hovering between the two women in case something did happen. “What?”

 

“You were going to check in with Tommy?” she said again.

 

“Hey, Ollie, are you okay?” Thea asked, also frowning at her brother.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the archer immediately reassured them, going on as neither lady looked convinced. “Yeah, I’ll go see Tommy later this morning. He was gonna get some sleep before we go over the books.” He shook his head. “I’ll check in with my mom first and wait for you to finish up first.”

 

In other words, he wasn’t going to leave Felicity alone that long and she shouldn’t work very long anyway. Not when she was supposedly here on the weekend just to check a few things that couldn’t wait till Monday.

 

Felicity rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to wait for me, Oliver. I’m sure your sister doesn’t want to hang around here all day.”

 

“I can take another car if I need to, _Q.C_ has plenty,” Thea pointed out with a very teenage shrug. “Or, you know, call a cab.”

 

“You can, I guess,” Felicity allowed, “But not before we talk about whatever it was you wanted to see me about this morning.”

 

Thea shook her head, “You don’t have to—”

 

“I said I’d help, didn’t I?” Felicity cut her off pointedly, arching an eyebrow at the teen till she shrugged.

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Thea acknowledged, then frowned again as she glanced at the woman who was silently walking along with them and her entourage. “But what about—”

 

“I can wait to spend time with my cousin, Thea,” Nyssa cut in calmly, offering her a sincere little smile. “But I thank you for your consideration.”

 

“You’re welcome, I guess,” the teen answered uncomfortably. “Mom really will want you to come tonight, and tomorrow, too. I mean, if you want to?”

 

Nyssa’s smile widened just a little as she bowed her head. “I will be delighted.”

 

By then they were all crammed in the executive elevator, which _Q.C Security_ had already programmed to stop on the lobby floor, as expected. Either when Dylan called up to warn them of all the extra and otherwise unexpected guards or when whoever was watching the cameras had seen it. Probably the cameras caught it first, considering how gung-ho their boss had been about not missing anything else in the building ever again…

 

“With respect, Miss Raatko,” Navid spoke up then, “Mister Diggle has informed me that most of our detail will not be permitted past the lobby, I will, however, have to insist upon myself and at least two others.”

 

Nyssa nodded. “Whatever you think is best, Al-Owal,” she answered lightly.

 

The new name—or title?—took John by surprise. He recognized that it was Arabic right away and only had to think about it for a second to figure it out. He was rusty, but the language he’d learned along with everything else thrown at him during _R.O.T.C_ had gotten plenty of use while he was serving his country in the ‘Stan. But he did turned it over twice in his head anyway, because why would she call her head bodyguard ‘The First?’ The first what?

 

John had already decided against asking a lot of questions though. These people just didn’t fit the mold of a normal security detail. Military or mercenary. They struck him as something… else? Or more? He couldn’t quite decide. There was no point in asking for answers he wouldn’t get. The fact that all of these people—maybe even Felicity’s cousin—seemed at least as more dangerous than most of the people he’d worked with in the Special Forces might have more than a little to do with it, too.

 

Felicity was the one that he’d be asking. She, at least, would have the motivators of their friendship and their teamwork to give him some answers. That’d hopefully be enough to earn some answers, assuming Oliver didn’t mess up beforehand by demanding too much or giving too little himself. Something that was, unfortunately, all too easy to imagine.

 

Oliver had been doing well with Felicity of late, but John really credited Felicity with the pair’s success in their developing relationship so far much more than the vigilante…

 

As anticipated, Peter Mills was waiting with a professional smile right at the elevator opened onto the lobby. “Mister Queen, Doctor Smoak, Miss Queen, good morning.”

 

“Good morning, Mister Mills,” Felicity replied right away, which was probably a good thing because John was pretty sure her boyfriend and his sister didn’t know who the company’s new head of security even was. “This is my cousin, Nyssa. She’ll be visiting Starling City for a bit and her security detail will unfortunately need to be with her all the time. I hope that’s not a problem?”

 

“Not at all, Doctor Smoak,” the former marine replied easily, and the way his professional smile had softened into a real one when Felicity started talking told John that here was another rough-around-the-edges guy that’d fallen fast for their genius’s charm. “I can’t allow them all past the lobby till they’ve been vetted; it’s S.O.P for security, you understand.”

 

“Of course,” Felicity smiled back, before raising an eyebrow at her cousin’s security head. “Navid?”

 

The older man didn’t quite smile, but there was a definite twitch upwards on either side of his mouth for just a second before it went away while he answered her. “As I informed Mister Diggle, we do understand the necessary precaution. However, I would be happy to provide you with our credentials this morning, Mister Mills. You will find everything in order.”

 

Also standard for this sort of thing: the unexpected part of this morning was the problem. Managing expectations—even if that meant expecting the absolute worst to prepare for it—was largely what security was all about. Sure, there was reacting to the unexpected, too, but even that was managed by expecting it could happen and training for as many eventualities as possible ahead of them. So that you were ready for the worst if it _did_ happen.

 

Surprise was a major enemy of security. But it still happened, and it still had to be handled when it did. Something that’d be a lot easier for John if it felt like he was working with other former soldiers or someone similar: these people really were a lot more like wolves. Forget Afghanistan. Working with Oliver was actually the best prep he’d had for this. The Arrow was an outside the box operator in the extreme. In his mind those boxes were just there for him to step on, jump around, or break.

 

Normally vetting would be done before anyone showed up, but that was for a scheduled meeting or something like that. Not that Felicity could be blamed for that, since as far as John knew she hadn’t been expecting her cousin. Last he’d heard the only family she thought might be dropping in sometime soon was her brother.

 

Granted, before this morning John and Oliver both hadn’t even known she _had_ an uncle and a cousin. Far as John knew the only family they heard of was her mother in Las Vegas and her two brothers. And he wasn’t a hundred percent sure if she had two older brothers or just the one. Or if they were both foster siblings, adopted or actual blood relations.

 

“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Mills was nodding along, his eyes mostly going back to Oliver and Felicity all the while. “It shouldn’t take long to get everything in order, but—”

 

“Take all the time you need, Mister Mills,” Felicity interrupted gently, waiving off any concern. “I have some work to do this morning, but I’m sure Mister As’ad will—”

 

“My apologies, Doctor Smoak,” Navid interrupted her then. “While we are happy to provide our paperwork, I must insist on remaining with our charge myself.”

 

Felicity glanced at her cousin then, a silent question in her eyes that John couldn’t decipher anymore than it looked like Oliver could.

 

Nyssa frowned back at her, but then shook her head once and looked at her head of security. “I’m sure everything is in hand here, Al-Owal. Remain here to sort out the paperwork, Felicity and I will await you in her office afterwards. Please,” she added the last word on as an after thought, and apparently one she wasn’t used to having.

 

Clearly she was used to issuing orders, not requests. Another point towards her being a spy or something of that sort rather than just highly protected because of her father’s career.

 

“My men will remain in the lobby,” Navid maintained, voice too even and calm to be called arguing. “Jacob has all of the necessary paperwork. I will continue to accompany you.”

 

Nyssa frowned slightly, but then nodded before finally raising an eyebrow at her cousin in expectation.

 

Felicity rolled her eyes as she sighed and spread her hands. “It’s fine with me. Mister Mills, here, is the one you have to get it by.”

 

 _Queen Consolidated_ ’s security head hesitated for a few seconds before he glanced at Oliver—whose frown had been bordering on a scowl since he’d stopped them—and then quickly nodded back at Felicity. “That should be fine, ma’am. We’ll send everyone up as quick as we can.”

 

Working in this skyscraper with the Queen name on it made any of the Queens hard to refuse, even though neither of the Queen children worked within their family’s company. Or the man might be caving due to even more basic survival instincts curling up under Oliver Queen’s glare. But Peter Mills wasn’t a pushover by any means—he hadn’t been Special Forces, but he had been a marine, so John tried to give him the benefit of the doubt even in his own head.

 

“No need to rush,” Navid assured him then, still so calm and even it was starting to be almost creepy. “It is always best to be thorough.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Mills nodded again. “But it still shouldn’t take too long if everything’s in order.”

 

“As it is,” Navid nodded, and then looked at Felicity himself. “Shall we continue then?”

 

Felicity waited for Mills to nod his agreement before she answered. “We shall,” she said brightly, then let Oliver lead her back to the executive elevator.

 

Oliver and Felicity were both already keyed into the system for executive access, Felicity as an actual executive—being the head of the company’s newest department—and Oliver because he was a Queen, which probably meant Thea could call the elevator with her thumbprint, too. But since it hadn’t gone anywhere while they were in the lobby the front desk or security had obviously locked it there. The executives, after all. Were the ones that were more like to be working the weekend whenever needed. That’s one reason why they got the big bucks.

 

John made himself just nod to Mills when they were waived by the metal detectors; following the smaller group as it shed almost all of its protective presence. A part of him wanted to point out that the _Queen Consolidated_ Security Head shouldn’t have let any guests past the lobby without first making sure they left all their weapons behind. But no one here would appreciate that point being made, and Navid As’ad was here to protect Felicity’s cousin and maybe Felicity herself, so he let it go. For now, anyway. He might have to comment at some point…

 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen security stop someone before,” Thea commented after the elevator doors had slid shut and they’d started to go up again. “They never look at my friends when we stop by.”

 

“If any of your friends looked dangerous they would,” Oliver told her.

 

The younger Queen frowned. “Isn’t that, like, profiling?”

 

“It’s not ‘like’ profiling,” Felicity snorted. “It _is_ profiling. But it’s not just a racial thing, Thea. And it’s part of their job.”

 

As the teen’s frown was deepened, John spoke up. “They’re looking for a lot of things. One of ‘em is people like me and Navid, here. We both look like we’re at least former military and like we’re armed, ‘cause we are as part of our job. Security recognizes that. And they’re looking for anyone else who stands out, especially if it’s for the same reason. Danger and risk levels. More or less.”

 

It was a whole lot more complicated than that. That was the way of the world. Complicated. Even the few things in life that seemed simple weren’t if you really thought about it. At its most basic, though, security was about life or death. Whether most people wanted to admit that to themselves or not…

 

“I guess,” Thea acknowledged, but her brow was still furrowing and she was still frowning. “I mean, we don’t want a shooting or something like that here.” She shook her head as she finished. “But that still seemed weird.”

 

“Anything you’re not used to seems weird, ‘cause for you it is.” Felicity pointed out calmly. “Doesn’t mean it’s not normal. Or that it’s wrong.”

 

“I guess,” Thea rolled her eyes as she agreed. “Just ‘cause it’s not my norm doesn’t mean it’s not a norm, right?”

 

“Something like that,” Felicity laughed lightly as the elevator stopped at her floor. “Here’s my stop.” She went up on her tiptoes to press a kiss on Oliver’s cheek. “Tell your mom I said ‘hi,’ and we’ll see her tonight, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Oliver agreed, exchanging a look with John before he looked at his sister. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

“Take your time,” Thea shrugged. “I just saw mom an hour ago, and I spent all of that hour with you so I’m good on family time right now.”

 

“Smartass,” Oliver grinned, shaking his head.

 

John followed everyone else off the elevator as they stepped off, which earned him only a few second glances.

 

But Thea, of course, said something. “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding Ollie?”

 

“I’m just going up a few floors to talk to mom, Thea. I’ll be fine,” her brother told her.

 

Thea rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he’s _your_ bodyguard. Not Felicity’s.”

 

Oliver only smirked-ever-so-slightly as the elevator doors closed again, leaving the rest of them on the otherwise empty floor that the Q.C _Technical Security_ shared with _Legal_.

 

Or almost empty. Surprisingly, one of the floor’s receptionists was here even on weekends. Less surprising was the fact that Felicity’s impressive personal assistant wasn’t here, too. John would be willing to bet that Felicity had either made a point of telling Amita not to come in on the weekend with her, or she didn’t tell her that she was going to be here herself at all…

 

“Good morning, Doctor Smoak,” the brunette greeted her boss with a professional smile.

 

“Good morning, Jen,” Felicity replied, shaking her head. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Felicity? I thought I told everyone that.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Jen acknowledged smoothly.

 

Felicity shook her head, but then gestured to others. “Everyone, this is the department’s lead receptionist, Jen Hunt. Jen, I’m sure you recognize Miss Queen.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“We met a little while ago,” Thea said, offering the slightly older woman a smile. “Glad to see you got the job.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Queen.”

 

“God, _please_ call me Thea,” the teenager rolled her eyes. “I’m still in high school, you know.”

 

“This is my cousin, Nyssa, and her head of security, Mister As’ad. Mister Diggle works for the Queen family.” Felicity explained again.

 

“Yeah,” Thea spoke up again. “He’s supposed to be my brother’s bodyguard, but he’s following Felicity around instead today. On his day off.”

 

There was some definite amusement in Felicity’s voice as she went on with her explanation, but she didn’t react to the teen’s sarcasm directly. “They’ll be visiting today, and likely in the future, as well. As my guests they have floor access, but no tech clearance, okay?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jen acknowledged. “They are free to move about but not interact with our equipment. Including, I presume, the WI-FI?”

 

“They can use the same guest access as everyone else.” Felicity answered, and then told them all. “It’s a public network, though. Across all of Q.C. So I wouldn’t access bank accounts or anything like that, okay?”

 

“Why not?” Thea asked with another frown, though now her confusion was too clear for sarcasm.

 

Felicity blinked at her before she explained, “Because anyone can use it. And potentially see what you do. What you look at. Potentially even your passwords, pins and all.”

 

Thea seemed to understand, but she was still frowning. “That doesn’t seem very secure.”

 

“That’s ‘cause it’s not,” Felicity shook her head. “Just like every other public network isn’t. It’s open to everyone, so it can’t ever be secure. Even if your data’s encrypted, encryptions can be broken. Some easier than others, but all of them are vulnerable.”

 

“But isn’t that what this whole department’s for?” Thea asked, waiving around to indicate their surroundings. “I mean, securing the computers and all that?”

 

“It is,” Felicity agreed. “The company doesn’t work on the same network, Thea. That’s why we said it’s for guests. Q.C’s business is done on secure computers and a network that is now very secure. It isn’t perfect, but its leagues ahead of most others. And we’ll continue to make it better.” She smiled as she shook her head again. “I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to talk to me about though. Jen,” she looked back at the receptionist. “Please show Nyssa and Navid to the break room and help them with whatever they need.”

 

“We will rejoin you once your conversation is concluded,” Nyssa nodded, not giving her bodyguard the chance to object. Or even a glance before she’d replied.

 

John really couldn’t get a clear read on Navid As’ad and his supposed charge. Because what was reading didn’t make sense.

 

He didn’t think it was cultural differences. Or, if it was, it wasn’t the same tumultuous and repressive culture that he’d gotten used to seeing in the ‘Stan. If anything the authority dynamic here was the exact opposite of that, with the young woman in charge—and with both of them seemingly inclined to follow Felicity’s lead, too.

 

It didn’t make sense. Whatever secrets Felicity might have, she was still just a tech specialist. Well, not ‘just.’ The girl was a definite genius. Anyone who spent any time with her at all could see that. But she’d earned her doctorate from M.I.T earlier than most college students could get their bachelors, and then she’d come straight to Starling City and _Queen Consolidated_. There wasn’t any _time_ for her to be anything else in between. Not when she’d been in high school before that…

 

But the ease that she handled almost everything with—from helping the vigilante to dating that vigilante and being thrust into a leadership role at the company she’d spent years overlooked at—it all hinted at much more experience than the background check by _ARGUS_ had outlined. And all of that was way before these dangerous people suddenly showed up, all of them—or at least the two leaders he’d seen her interact with—treating her like she was their superior.

 

A part of John hesitated to keep thinking along these lines. A big part—that part that’d found the little sister he hadn’t known was missing from his life till they’d started working together as co-conspirators aiding the Vigilante. Adrenaline and all the insanity they ran into had quickly rushing them along the path to fast friends. And, by now, what felt like family.

 

But as he kept watching, the thoughts kept coming.

 

Not watching Felicity, not really. As she led Thea into her office and closed the doors behind them he could see her through the interior glass panels because she didn’t decide to make them opaque for the meeting. The whole setup still kind of reminded him of a fish bowl, but he tried not to think about just how unsecure the fish really were when all that stood in the way of bullets was glass. At least there were no vantages outside the two tallest towers in Starling City that’d offer a sniper a clear shot into this floor. Navid didn’t seem bothered by the glass walls as they both watched Felicity offer the teenager a bottle of water before sitting down beside her on the couch to gently draw out whatever it was that Oliver’s sister was so worried about.

 

It was probably something to do with her boyfriend. Thea Queen didn’t seem to have any trouble with her community service work in _C.N.R.I_ , and it wasn’t likely that she would with Laurel looking after her. She hadn’t strayed back towards drugs, alcohol or even parties since her scare with Vertigo and the courts. The only major change in her life was the boy she’d been dating for at least a few weeks now…

 

Watching Felicity and Thea talk was all within easy norms, even after the tense, high-alert rush over here. The other man who pinged as more of threat than backup on John’s internal radar wasn’t so easy to accept. And the ‘cousin’ that was just as comfortably chatting with the department’s lone worker wasn’t much better. Neither one had let the secretary lead them into the nearby break room like Felicity had suggested, neither one at all tempted by the comfortable seating or the top-of-the-line coffee machine that some of the lawyers probably had to ask the tech specialist to help them get their cups of joe. Navid had stayed by the elevators, just like John. And Nyssa had followed Jen Hunt over to her desk just a short ways away to quietly chat about something, though John doubted it was the gossip magazine to two gestured at occasionally but hadn’t actually opened or even seemed to look at.

 

Felicity and Nyssa looked nothing alike. At all. But they already knew the two women probably weren’t, didn’t they? Oliver had said something about Felicity being adopted, so the lack of any resemblance at all could be explained by that.

 

Yet there could also be a more clandestine explanation, too. Like the _C.I.A_. Or _ARGUS_ …

 

The _Advanced Research Group United Support_ seemed the more likely, John reluctantly admitted to himself. The shady organization he hadn’t been able to talk Lyla out of joining dealt with specialist of all kinds, military and otherwise. But unlike the spies out of Langley, their mandate didn’t prohibit them from officially operating stateside _and_ abroad.

 

Sure, Oliver seemed to have some significant ties to _ARGUS_ himself. Ties that went high enough up to get him an accurate report on a soldier who’d served in the Special Forces: completely un-redacted and thorough. John had seen it—it didn’t leave a single thing out. But even the archer was starting to doubt that the report he’d received regarding Felicity Smoak in about the same timeframe held even half as much water. It was supposedly just as comprehensive as the one about John Diggle, but too many things that Felicity herself had told them weren’t there. And a whole lot more of the things they’d seen weren’t either.

 

“You are quiet, Mister Diggle,” Navid offered.

 

John shrugged, “Not much to say this morning.”

 

“No?” the older security specialist said as he turned backed towards him. “Were I you, I would have at least a few questions.”

 

“Asking questions doesn’t always get you answers.”

 

“Quite true,” Navid acknowledged, “And one can learn much by merely watching and listening, as you have been.”

 

John tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything in response, which made the other man chuckle.

 

“I can see why Doctor Smoak likes you,” Navid shook his head. “And that great lady’s regard is not easily won. Her trust is all the harder.”

 

John blinked, but he did understand what the other man was saying. Felicity seemed like an open book sometimes, even most of the time. But if she was a book then she was an electronic one that picked and chose what its reader was allowed to see on the lit up screen. He’d watched her charm and spin stories several times now—and those stories always made much more sense than the stupid covers her boyfriend came up with when he had to. Not that _that_ was hard.

 

Did that mean Felicity _did_ have a much more complicated background that they thought? Or just a little bit more? _ARGUS_ , _C.I.A_ , _N.S.A_ , or just some sort of hacker background?

 

“The lady is a treasure, truly,” Navid spoke up again, his voice low but clear. “You would do well to remember that. As would Mister Queen.””

 

John looked over at him again, then held his eyes as he nodded slowly. “We know,” he told him firmly. “Don’t know how anyone could forget it.”

 

“I agree,” Navid nodded. “Sadly, her heart has been hurt before. I would not like to see that again.”

 

There was a warning in there, not at all hidden by the man’s polite words or calm tone. But in this they were on the same page, so John just nodded again.

 

“I don’t want that either.”

 

“I am pleased to hear it.” Navid nodded back, then asked, “And Mister Queen?”

 

John looked away again, watching through the glass as Felicity got Thea to smile again while he answered. “He can be an idiot, but he does love her.”

 

“Yes. I could see that,” the older man admitted pleasantly. “A fine start.”

 

John couldn’t think of anything else to say to that. He’d already said the two most relevant points. Sometimes Oliver _was_ a stubborn idiot. And sometimes he was an ass. But the archer had realized that he was in love with Felicity. A monumental step for Oliver Queen, considering his history pre-shipwreck, the five years that follow, and _everything_ going on now…

 

All the secrets surrounding both—surrounding all of them at this point—weren’t something he was going to bring up with his paranoia-inducing man he’d only met this morning.

 

“And the rest of the family?” Navid asked after a few moments of silence. “Miss Queen seems to be fond of Felicity as well. What of her mother?”

 

The other man wasn’t even trying to hide that he was fishing for information, but he was too serious and protective for John to call it gossip so he didn’t mind responding. “Missus Queen keeps her cards close most of the time, but she adores her kids. Felicity makes her son happy, so she’s part of the family.”

 

Perhaps it was too personal an observation of the family to share, but there was nothing harmful in it and he could understand why the man was asking. Moira Queen _was_ currently the acting-C.E.O of the company that Felicity worked for, and that could help or hurt her cousin’s security detail when it came to Nyssa spending any time around _Queen Consolidated_ when Felicity was working. As long as they didn’t give Oliver’s mother reason to worry about them, though, she was likely to either help or ignore them, so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

 

“A good mother, then,” Navid nodded.

 

“Yeah, she is,” John admitted, even though he still wanted to know what secrets Moira Queen was hiding. But that wasn’t something he was going to bring up with this man either.

 

They both looked back towards Felicity’s office as the two inside got up, Felicity headed towards her desk while Thea was leaving with a smile and little skip in her step. Clearly their conversation was successful to both ladies’ satisfaction.

 

“Jen?” Thea’s smile turned to the receptionist as soon as she’d stepped out of the office. “Would you mind calling a car around front, please? I’m fine with a cab if—”

 

“ _Queen Consolidated_ has several drivers working even on the weekend, Miss Queen,” the slightly older brunette interrupted the teen politely. “Like Doctor Smoak, many of the executives put in long hours and emergencies do come up. I’ll have one of them meet you?”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Thea agreed, still smiling.

 

Whatever it was that’d been weighing down on her seemed to be all but gone now. Some people just had a knack for that, and this wasn’t the first time John had seen Felicity demonstrate the compassionate ability in spades.

 

“One of the town cars will be around front in five minutes,” Jen reported as soon as she hung up.

 

“Great, thanks,” Thea replied, but her smile suddenly fell a little. “I’m sorry you have to work on a Saturday,” she offered then, looking around at what she could see of the floor that’d been downright deserted before they showed up. “It must suck to be up here all alone.”

 

“Oh, I’m not alone,” Jen volunteered with a little laugh. “We share this floor with _Legal_ , and the Q.C lawyers seem to work around the clock, so there are always a few people here.” Then she shrugged, “Besides, I volunteered for the overtime—I’ve got a lot of loans to pay off.”

 

“Oh,” Thea blinked. “I guess that makes sense.” She looked at Nyssa then. “It was nice meeting you, Nyssa. I’ll see you tonight?”

 

“I shall look forward to it,” Nyssa nodded again.

 

“Yeah, me too,” the teen acknowledged, before directing a grin at the two men still standing guard by the elevators. “Sorry you guys have to work, too, but I hope your day’s boring.”

 

“That is always the hope, Miss Queen,” Navid told her gently.

 

“Better get going, Thea. Even the exec elevator takes a while to get to the lobby,” John pointed out then, before the teen could drag out her goodbyes anymore. It was a little painful to watch, but he didn’t mind because this polite, hesitant girl was a definite improvement over the partying, drug-doing brat he’d watched Oliver pickpocket those drugs off of the first night after he’d been hired on by the Queen family. That the big brother stealing and dumping those drugs was the first thing John had actually approved of while watching Oliver had made the memory stick.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Thea agreed, giving everyone a waive as she stepped onto the elevator as soon as the doors opened. “Bye everyone.”

 

“A sweet child,” Navid chuckled once the doors had shut again.

 

“She has her moments,” John acknowledged, not admitting that he was just thinking about the same thing. Honestly, though, he preferred watching the teen challenge her brother every now and again. Sure, sometimes she was just being a brat, but more than once Oliver had needed to be called out like that and it was more effective coming from his kid sister than his unnecessary bodyguard. He looked back towards Felicity’s office just in time to see Nyssa close the door behind herself on the way in, then couldn’t stop his frown as the walls suddenly went dark because Felicity had changed the panel’s settings to opaque. That didn’t seem suspiciously secretive at all…

* * *

NEXT:

The Prodigal Son.

_Moira’s P.O.V._

Moira wasn’t expecting this discussion with her son, but she wasn’t disappointed by it either…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, there we have it. I hope it was worth the wait?  
> Comments, constructive criticisms, etc. are always welcome. Let me know what you think!  
> And hopefully the next chapter will be ready a LOT sooner than this one was. I generally have more time in the autumn, so in theory it should be…  
> I’m going to put a lot of effort into updating Wings of that Butterfly Called Chaos, too, but I won’t let this one sit too long on its own—I already have a lot of it written, after all. Whether I actually LIKE what I’ve written is another matter, but it’s a starting point…  
> Also, old computers are evil. A friend of mine has been holding onto one that’s 10 years old (at least) because she couldn’t figure out how to get all the songs, pictures and videos off of it so she asked me to help. This thing won’t work with modern flash drives—half the time it won’t even recognize the really new ones. And everything’s so SLOW! I mean, I know computers have gotten faster as technology has advanced but it’s amazing how long the old ones used to take to do ANYTHING… okay, I’m gonna stop my rant there…  
> Again, your comments always help—even when I’m being a coward and not letting myself look at my inbox because it’s been way too long since I’ve updated. When I do eventually get around to making myself look the encouragement DOES help a lot. And I need it more now because the last few (current) seasons of Arrow haven’t been great motivators for this fic—I think it’s just too far down the timeline, the characters have changed/grown, etc., so much has happened to them. I mean, I’m still re-watching Season 1 a lot for this series—and Season 2 for my other crossover—but sometimes it doesn’t help as much as I’d like. New ideas, thoughts, suggestions, whatever you want to call them, can be a lifesaver.  
> So, PLEASE comment!  
> And thanks again for reading! Bye for now!  
> ~ Jess


	6. The Prodigal Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, here we finally have the next excerpt from Moira’s POV. Once again, sorry it took so long to post. I’m still playing around with the general storyline here, so even though I’ve had this scene ready for a little while now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to use it. Mainly because all of the next few scenes feel fairly crammed together—maybe it’s just me staring at all of it too long. Hopefully it’s just me and you guys find in enjoyable.  
> Also, I don’t particularly care for the title that I’d tacked onto it, but I still can’t think of anything else and holding it up any longer for that just seems stupid… and mean. So, here it is. Enjoy. Hopefully.

**_ _ **

**_ Chapter 6: The Prodigal Son _ ** _._

_Moira Queen's P.O.V. _

 

Moira didn’t let herself sigh when he stopped and waited for her response. “Yes, I understand,” she answered, nodding to give her head something to do instead even though she’d rather be hanging the phone up. Or, really, she would’ve preferred not to answer in the first place but with what this man was capable of she didn’t dare.

 

“ _I am sorry to pressure you, Moira,_ ” Malcolm said, sounding every bit as sincere as he almost always did.

 

Had he heard something in her tone that she  hadn’t hidden well enough? It was impossible to say with such a perceptive man. Especially since, at least with her, this madman she’d once slept with—and secretly borne a daughter from—was almost always unexpectedly considerate. Almost always. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill her, her children and Walter if he ever found out that she’d tried to have him killed to stop his mad plan. Robert _was_ at the bottom of the Pacific thanks to him, and Oliver had nearly joined him there…

 

“No, no,” Moira made her voice firm. “I understand. It will be ready as soon as it can be.”

 

“ _Good, I look forward to seeing the results myself,_ ” Malcolm approved, and damn if he didn’t sound like he was judging a children’s spelling bee.

 

Moira bit her tongue to keep herself from saying anything. About him. About Walter. About all the reports she’d regularly forwarded to him at his insistence on this damn project that she wanted nothing to do with but didn’t have a choice.

 

“ _The current timeline is now just under a month then, correct?_ ”

 

“It is,” Moira confirmed, hesitating a moment before she added, “Sooner, if we don't need the second device—”

 

“ _No,_ ” Malcolm cut her off firmly. “ _We’ll wait for the backup. It’s necessary._ ”

 

“Very well,” Moira couldn’t stop herself from wincing. None of her disappearance leaked into her voice, though, because she couldn’t let it. Despite her fears of what the two machines might really mean.

 

She’d gone over the reports countless times, calculating and comparing everything herself, and every result spelled out the same thing. The Glades weren’t very big. One of these monstrous machines was more than enough to destroy the poorest part of their city and then some if it was placed in just the right—or, really, _wrong_ —spot. Why did they need _two?_

 

“ _Redundancy may seem like overkill, Moira, but it’s better to be prepared for any contingency._ ” Malcolm told her.

 

“I understand,” Moira said again, even though she didn’t and never would. She didn’t have a choice.

 

“ _Thank you, Moira,_ ” Malcolm said then, the hard edge that’d been in his tone a moment ago softening. “ _We’d discussed having dinner before that unfortunate incident a few weeks ago. Are you free tonight?_ ”

 

“No, I’m afraid I already have prior commitments this weekend,” Moira replied smoothly, glad she could honestly say so. “Felicity’s family is visiting.”

 

This man was holding her husband hostage to keep her in line. _And_ that was after he’d killed her first husband and nearly her son, too. Why, exactly, he thought she’d ever want to have dinner with him she’d never understand.

 

Malcolm was quiet for half a moment before he answered, “ _Felicity is Oliver’s new girlfriend, isn’t she?_ ”

 

“She is,” Moira acknowledged, and then added. “She’s also the head of the new department here at _Queen Consolidated_.”

 

“ _Yes, you said she was a computer genius, didn’t you?_ ” Malcolm remembered. “ _And that Walter had picked her for the department before Oliver met her?_ ”

 

“He did,” Moira confirmed. “And I can see why, she’s incredibly gifted. Her thesis on cyber security is considered cutting edge even now, a few years after it was written.”

 

“ _An excellent choice, I’m sure,_ ” Malcolm acknowledged. “ _I look forward to meeting her._ ”

 

“We’re also meeting with a guest from Spain, to discuss a donation to their national museum,” Moira told him, hoping the business from outside the city would keep him from crashing either meal. Something there was a good chance of, because the madman had shied away from several international contacts before this. He wanted to keep everything about the Undertaking from getting out even within the city because he _did_ realize that mass murder would be more than just frowned upon if anyone outside of his tightly controlled and terrified group. But there was something else about any international involvement that he seemed to be especially wary about. She wished she knew what—or who—he was afraid of so that she could use it against him, but she’d already tried to stop him once and almost lost everything for it…

 

“ _Always so busy,_ ” Malcolm chuckled, fortunately still not sounding at all offended by the fact that she _had_ effectively dodged his every invitation since the night she’d failed to have him killed. If anything he sounded almost fond, though his next words explained why. “ _Rebecca always was, too._ ”

 

“She was,” Moira agreed softly, this time letting some of the pain she felt as she remembered her long dead friend show. “She wanted to help everyone she could.”

 

At this point she knew that it was a vain hope to think that talking about his murdered wife might make him reconsider his horrible plan for vengeance. She’d already tried it too many times to doubt the outcome, but sometime she kept trying anyway.

 

“ _If only the world had been half so kind to her,_ ” Malcolm didn’t quite growl, but there was an edge back in his voice. Though it wasn’t directed at her; it never was when they talked about what’d happened to Rebecca Merlyn.

 

“If only,” Moira murmured, because that _was_ one of the few things she could honestly agree on when talking with this man.

 

Her intercom chirped suddenly, “ _Missus Queen? Mister Queen is here to see you, should I tell him to wait?_ ”

 

“No thank you, Cynthia, I’m almost done,” Moira answered immediately, glad for the good reason to end the call that she’d wanted to end before it’d begun. “My son is here,” she said into the cell phone that Malcolm had provided her for ‘all business related to the Undertaking.’

 

“ _Of course, I’ll let you go then,_ ” Malcolm replied graciously, as expected even though it was always a bit of a surprise.

 

“Thank you, Malcolm, have a good weekend.”

 

“ _You as well, Moira,_ ” he replied before he hung up.

 

Moira barely had time to tuck that hated phone back into the drawer of her desk that locked before her office doors slid open to admit her son. She greeted him with a smile as she stood and walked around her desk to meet him on the other side. “Oliver, this is a pleasant surprise.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, though her smile fell as she leaned back—because of the worry she could clearly see on his face. “What’s wrong? Is Felicity alright? Thea—”

 

“Thea’s fine, mom,” Oliver interrupted reassuringly. “And Felicity is, too. They’re down in her office now, talking about…something,” he shrugged as he finished: affectively declaring that he had no idea what his sister and his girlfriend were discussing. Or possibly he just didn’t want to guess.

 

Either one showed just how much he’d matured from the young man he’d once been. It was easier to read him back then, but all children had to grow up eventually. The traumas he’d endured over the last five years weren’t what any parent would wish for their child to go through, but Moira tried to not dwell on that in light of the fact that his survival meant he’d come back to her. And that was a miracle—especially after half a decade of thinking he was dead.

 

In some ways he was still the boy he was before, but in others he most definitely wasn’t. That was why the worry he wasn’t even trying to hide from her had instantly bothered her so much—it was an expression she hadn’t seen in what seemed like a very long time. Everything had seemed fine just a little while ago this morning, but problems could come without warning.

 

It was only as Oliver put a gentle hand on her shoulder and steered her towards the sitting area that she realized that worried look was directed at her. But with everything that she couldn’t talk about, to keep her children safe—and Walter, too—Moira automatically pasted on a smile in response, though her lips fought against it all the way. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure? Dare I hope you’ve changed your mind about learning the family business?”

 

She knew it was a very long shot—possible an impossible one. And part of her didn’t _want_ her children anywhere near the company after what’d happened to their father. What’d happened to Oliver, too. And what was still happening to Walter now. Yet the hope for normalcy and success somehow still lingered; whether it should be put on hold till after Malcolm’s madness had had its way or not.

 

“No,” Oliver chuckled slightly as they sat down on the couch. “Are you kidding? Tommy’d never forgive me if I left him all alone with _Verdant_.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure he’d get over it someday,” Moira teased back, not letting her smile slip at Tommy’s name.

 

All things considered, it wasn’t that hard. Yes, Tommy was Malcolm’s son, but the two men couldn’t be less alike. Malcolm had disappeared for just over two whole years after Rebecca’s death—her _murder_ , as Malcolm always had to emphasize. In that time, no word was sent to his son or the people raising him at all. Malcolm might as well have been dead, and although she and Robert had tried to cover for holidays and all the other days, too, his son _had_ known it. And even after his father came back, Tommy had spent much more time at _Queen Mansion_ that the _Merlyn Estate_.

 

Perhaps that was why it was so easy to forget that he was that monster’s son. But that was why a part of her had been glad when the Arrow had stopped the Triad assassins she’d hired. Even with everything else it meant, at least Tommy hadn’t had to watch his father die…

 

“Actually, we’re worried about you, mom,” Oliver’s concerned words drew her back out of her thoughts.

 

“Me?” Moira blinked at him, and she was honestly baffled enough by how unexpected this was that she didn’t have to feign her surprise at all. “I’m fine, Oliver. You don’t have to—”

 

“You’re not fine,” her son cut her off and shook his head. “Walter’s still missing.”

 

It felt like a slap to the face and a knife in the heart at the same time—though that knife had been there for a long while now so it was really just twisting torturously in place. Moira couldn’t stop herself from wincing in response, but then she made herself reply with a weary sigh. “I know that. It’s why I’m here,” she reminded him with another forced, pained smile. “It’s why I have to be here. Why I have to take care of our company—and why I have to keep busy. I’ve told you that.”

 

“Felicity says you’re here almost as much as she is, which we both know is too often,” Oliver told her slowly. “And she thinks you’re worried about something?”

 

Here was the problem with Felicity working so close by that Moira hadn’t foreseen. Having the brilliant, compassionate girl that her son had fallen fast and hard for here on the executive levels meant that her son had a look into the company and his mother’s workdays that Moira herself couldn’t completely control.

 

She probably _had_ been here even more often than Felicity was of late. She’d made a point of keeping an eye on that young lady’s schedule, after all—and if she wasn’t, then Cynthia was. Checking in on her was a matter of course considering how important she’d become to Oliver. And Oliver, himself, had been stopping by _Queen Consolidated_ to check up on his girlfriend frequently, too. So Felicity’s hours should be much more reasonable than they had been before Moira learned of her workaholic tendencies.

 

But, with the Undertaking approaching, Moira _had_ been overseeing the parts of the project Malcolm needed from the _UNIDAC Industries_ buyout—namely the weapons he planned to use against the Glades. It was unpleasant work that made for long hours and hard decisions. So in spite of the efforts she’d made to hide how unhappy it all made her, Moira wasn’t surprised that Felicity had noticed.

 

Moira sighed again. “Well, of course I’m worried, Oliver. This job isn’t easy, but someone does have to do it.”

 

She wished she could seize onto this opening to nudge her son towards the fact that this was a job that _he_ should be doing, but she squished it down yet again. She couldn’t do it. She would have without a second thought before Walter was stolen from her. Before she had to allow Walter to be taken from her: to save his life. She wouldn’t put herself in that terrible position yet again. She wouldn’t put either of her children anywhere near Malcolm Merlyn’s madness…

 

“What are you working on?” Oliver asked, still frowning and watchful.

 

Another opening that she simply couldn’t take…

 

“We have many ongoing projects, Oliver. The new department, for one,” Moira’s smile came more honestly as continued. “Felicity has been wonderful, just as Walter expected, I’m sure, but there’s plenty of moving pieces that I have to keep an eye on myself.”

 

 _Public Relations_ , _Legal_ , and _Human Resources_ especially, but it seemed like every department wanted to add their own advice and/or arguments when it came to the newest department and its head. That Felicity Smoak had an actual doctorate in computer sciences specializing in cyber security and a flawless over-achieving career here at the company didn’t seem to matter to far too many morons once they realized that Felicity was also Oliver Queen’s girlfriend.

 

Was that why the young woman had come to the forefront of Moira’s attention when there was so much else to distract her? Yes. Was it why Moira had _wanted_ to elevate her position in the company? Yes, it was.

 

But it _wasn’t_ why Walter had been planning the new department. It wasn’t why he’d hand-picked the young computer genius to lead it long before Oliver had found Felicity hidden away in their _I.T Department_.

 

Felicity Smoak had been tremendously over qualified for her former position, even though she had been letting her idiot of a former supervisor take advantage of that fact. Moira still couldn’t wrap her head around that man’s behavior. He’d actually barged into her office to yell about the best member of his department being promoted over his head. How could that end with anything other than security escorting him back to his office to clean it out? And after he’d deliberately over-worked Felicity—breaking plenty of company policies and probably laws in the process. The _Acting C.E.O_ had been tempted to have him thrown straight from the building, with his belongings to follow thereafter. But such highhandedness would only cause more problems in need of fixing, so she’d contented herself with telling him he had until the end of the day to clean up his office. Leading to the problem of needing a new supervisor for the _I.T Department_ , of course, but that was something _H.R_ should have in hand shortly—Cynthia would make sure of it.

 

“Mom?” Oliver’s voice yanked her out of her thoughts again.

 

A reassuring smile automatically overtook Moira’s face when she saw that same worry in her son’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Oliver, I am a bit preoccupied. Or maybe more than a bit these days. What are we working on now? Let’s see…” she shook her head. “Well, we have several open contracts with the government. Those are our biggest projects at the moment.”

 

Those projects were more than just lucrative. They were safe. And _Queen Consolidated’s_ sterling reputation across all branches of the government was an important cornerstone of the company’s success. They weren’t quite even with their biggest competitors these days— _Wayne Industries_ , _Luthor Corp_ and _Merlyn Global Group_ —but they were near enough to all three to still be considered competition. And even all of them would acknowledge that while _Q.C_ was number four on the global scale, here in their own country it was likely only _Wayne Industries_ that could occasionally wrestle them out of first place. Robert had built an excellent relationship with the U.S government, and Walter had only expanded on that.

 

Though lately Luthor tended to mostly duel with Malcolm, seemingly wary of Lucius Fox and not knowing what to make of her. More the fool him.

 

“What parts of the government?” Oliver asked, and he actually looked interested.

 

Moira couldn’t decide if she should be pleased about that or not. “Mostly with _Defense_ and _State_. Though the _C.D.C_ is interested in our _Applied_ _Sciences_. As are _NASA_ and _ARGUS_ ,” she shook her head. “Although we’ve steered clear of _ARGUS_ so far; both Walter and your father didn’t like doing business with them.”

 

“Okay,” Oliver looked almost relieved to hear that, but his expression shifted back to concerned curiosity so fast she might’ve imagined it. “What about _NASA_?”

 

“Oh, that hasn’t really made it to my desk yet. The head of _Applied Sciences_ ’ is negotiating the original terms. The project has something to do with the Mission to Mars, I think, but that’s still years out.” Moira smiled more easily as she went on. “Of course, the backbone of our company has always been in sponsoring entrepreneurs, mostly around Starling City, which we still do extensively.”

 

That was putting it very basically. They took over and/or bought as many companies as they sponsored from start up. Much of _Applied Sciences_ was really a merger of many different companies with a wide range of scientific expertise. Like _UNIDAC Industries_.

 

“Do we?” Oliver asked with a frown, and he shrugged when she blinked at him. “I mean, after dad closed the steel factory it looked like it’d just been left to fall apart.”

 

“Yes, well, your father knew our local factories couldn’t hope to compete with any of the factories in Asia. It was and still is simply much cheaper to buy the steel from abroad. A sad but simple truth about globalization that we can’t ignore,” Moira shook her head again. “But now you’ve turned it into the most successful nightclub in the city.”

 

“We’re still pretty new,” Oliver shook his head. “The hype’ll wear off eventually.”

 

Moira immediately shook her head, “Not if we have anything to say about it,” she told him firmly. “ _P.R_ has already put together an excellent ad campaign, which we will start using at the first sign that _Verdant_ needs it.”

 

“Mom—”

 

“Which, of course, hasn’t happened yet. But that’s how it’s done, Oliver. It’s the business your father founded—underneath all of the companies we’ve brought under our banner, our family has been a driving force in this city, and we will continue to be.” Moira finished firmly, watching her son grimace but relaxing a little when he finally just sighed.

 

“Okay, I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Oliver allowed. “You’ll have to get Tommy on board with it, too, though. And Felicity.”

 

“That’d be true if Tommy was a partner in the business, Oliver—”

 

“He is.”

 

“I know that his father cut him off, Oliver,” Moira sighed. “And I understand why you wanted to help him. He’s your best friend.”

 

“He’s family.”

 

“Yes. He is,” Moira agreed, wishing—as she had so many times before—that saying that didn’t hurt because of Tommy’s father now. “But in the nightclub—”

 

“He’s _Verdant’s_ General Manager,” Oliver cut her off firmly. “And his job is running everything at the club. That includes managing the publicity.”

 

“Oliver—”

 

“The club’s not part of _Q.C_ , Mom. Every penny I invested into it came out of my personal trust fund.”

 

“The building still belongs to the company, just like our mansion does.”

 

“Which is why Walter leased it to me.”

 

“Under the proviso of the _Queen Consolidated_ banner, which as C.E.O he could do,” Moira shook her head. “You don’t personally own that building, Oliver. As you said, it’s leased. And the contract for that lease can be revoked—”

 

“You’re going to shut my nightclub down if I don’t let you handle advertising?” Her son demanded incredulously.

 

Moira sighed, “No, of course not,” she shook her head again. “But you need to _think_ about these things, Oliver. Ignoring them is how businesses fail.”

 

“Fine,” Oliver allowed, also shaking his head. “But that can’t be what you’ve been so worried about. Like you said, _Verdant’s_ doing great right now.”

 

“Of course it is, and I’m not worried. That’s just one necessary thought among many,” Moira told him, before switching back to the earlier subject. “There’s also the new _Cyber Security Department_ , of course. Felicity seems to have that well in hand. It’s easy to see why Walter chose her for the position.”

 

“You said he’d planned the whole department around her?”

 

“Not exactly. But he had chosen her to lead it, and had planned on giving her a great deal of free reign.” Moira spread her hands. “It was the focus of her doctorate.”

 

“Yeah, it was,” Oliver agreed.

 

Exactly how that genius girl had ended up hidden away as only an _I.T Specialist_ Moira would never understand. With all her qualifications, Felicity Smoak should have been brought in as a supervisor at the very least, with the potential to one day lead the department.

 

But Moira wasn’t going to mention that to her son. He was so protective of his girlfriend it was both sweet and impossible to miss.

 

She still wasn’t going to let the subject go though, not when staying on the offensive kept her son from asking anymore questions she couldn’t answer. “That being said, I’m not sure she’ll have much time to worry about the nightclub over the next couple months especially.”

 

Her son blinked at her. “What?”

 

“You said the ads have to run by Tommy _and_ Felicity?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Oliver shrugged. “I trust her. I trust both of them.”

 

“And I’m glad of that,” Moira told him honestly. “But you were already worried about how much she was working. She’ll have a full staff now, so hopefully she learns to delegate and manage quickly. That’ll still take up a lot of her time though.”

 

All of the big paychecks came with the big workloads that earned them. Responsibilities. Long hours. Stress. All of which was manageable most of the time.

 

But Moira couldn’t afford to let Felicity slack off at all. Not even for Oliver. They were simply under too much scrutiny. And with what was coming it might get much worse. They all had to be above reproach: _Queen Consolidated_ and the Queen Family…

 

“She knows that.” Oliver replied. “She’s looking forward to it.”

 

“I’m sure she is, and that’s good. But are you?”

 

“Am I what?” he frowned.

 

“Looking forward to her not being able to spend every night at _Verdant_?” Moira shook her head again. “Honestly I’m not sure how she’s kept up the hours she works as it is. She won’t be able to do it forever.”

 

Moira could mostly manage what hours her new department head worked here at _Queen Consolidated_ , for the most part. If the one personal assistant Cynthia had already found wasn’t enough—despite being about as over-qualified for the position as she woman she was assisting was for her previous job—then she’d hire another one. Between the E.A and the department’s secretary, however, Felicity’s company workload should be manageable.

 

However, the tech genius seemed to spend more nights than not at _Verdant_ : updating their state-of-the-art computer systems and doing who-knew-what-else in the nightclub’s basement. It wouldn’t be a problem if it was mostly a cover for time spent with Oliver, but it sounded like she was actually working most of the time—and _that_ could be a problem. If the nightclub needed that much tech help on a regular basis they should hire someone—not let Felicity volunteer her expertise endlessly.

 

“She’s not working…” Oliver trailed off, and then he shook his head. “She’d tell me if it was too much for her,” he insisted. But he was clearly trying to convince himself.

 

“Would she?” Moira asked him, shrugging when his frown turned back to her. “I honestly don’t know. I do know that she’s very dedicated. Brilliant—a genius even. And that she gets caught up in her work very easily.” She shook her head. “You’re the one that pointed it out to me in the first place, darling. I’m just returning the favor.”

 

Oliver sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” he nodded slowly. “And I’ll ask Digg to, too. Just in case. And Tommy.”

 

“Good.” Moira agreed easily. “I’ll be watching her here, as well.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Maybe she should’ve expected the stern scrutiny her son directed at her then, but she honestly didn’t know what to expect from Oliver more than half the time these days.

 

“And?”

 

“And what, Oliver?” Moira shook her head and spread her hands. “I’m handling this job as best I can, but I wasn’t born to it like your father was. And Walter, too. All I can do is my best, just like everyone else. Does the stress get to me sometimes?” she nodded as she immediately answered her own question. “Yes, of course it does. But that’s the way this goes.”

 

“Mom—”

 

“It’s sweet of you to be concerned, and so very sweet of Felicity, too. But I am _fine_.” Moira told him firmly, holding his eyes for a moment. “I am.”

 

She was lying, of course. She hadn’t been anywhere close to fine in months. Not since Walter was taken from her. And even before that, what was to come—Malcolm’s mad Undertaking—had hung on her conscious. She didn’t doubt it always would. But all she could do now was whatever it took to see her family safely through the disaster.

 

Somehow the Undertaking was coming far too soon, but it also couldn’t come fast enough.

 

She’d lost her son once; she would _not_ go through that again.

 

She _couldn’t_.

 

“Okay,” Oliver finally relented, catching her gaze again. “Tell me if there’s anything I can do, alright?”

 

“There isn’t,” Moira answered firmly.

 

A few months ago she would’ve snatched onto even the shred of an opportunity to get Oliver into the boardroom, one step closer to accepting his father’s legacy. Not now though.

 

After the Undertaking, maybe. Malcolm said that they’d be rebuilding Starling City then, not destroying it. _That_ was something she’d like to see her son involved in. With his girlfriend so integral to _Queen Consolidated_ now, he’d be spending more time here regardless. He already was.

 

And maybe after the magnitude of the manmade disaster Malcolm was cooking up Oliver would _want_ to become the leader the company and the city would need. Provided Malcolm let him…

 

Moira shook the dark thoughts off again, deciding to redirect the conversation. “What did Felicity say about the necklace?” she asked, honestly curious.

 

She hadn’t honestly thought that Felicity Smoak came from any kind of money. Her impressive intelligence was where her doctorate had come from, though money had undoubtedly helped. With all the hours she’d been working, though, Moira had believed the money had been needed, but apparently not. Not if Felicity owned a museum quality family heirloom that was worth a small fortune.

 

"I mentioned it, and brunch," Oliver admitted with a grimace. "But we didn’t get the chance to talk about it,” he shook his head. “Thea wanted to talk to her, and when we got to her house we met her cousin.”

 

Moira blinked, “Her cousin?”

 

“Yeah. Her name’s Nyssa Raatko. Apparently she stopped by last night to visit. I’m not sure how long she’ll be saying—I’m not sure Felicity knows.”

 

“I see,” Moira nodded slowly. “Well, the more the merrier. I’ll have Cynthia change the reservations. I’m sure that—Nyssa, wasn’t it?—I’m sure she’ll make a lovely addition to both dinner tonight and brunch tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure she will. Once her head of security clears it,” he finished with a wince.

 

Moira blinked again at that. “Her head of security?”

 

“Felicity wasn’t really clear on if her cousin has bodyguards because of her own job or her father’s. Maybe it’s a combination of both.”

 

And so the history of Felicity Smoak—already as fascinating as Felicity herself—grew even more complex.

 

Honestly Moira did need a reprieve from worrying about the future. Malcolm’s madness especially. So meeting Felicity’s family and learning a little more about the woman her son loved sounded wonderful.

 

“I see.” Moira nodded slowly, then offered a smile. “Well, we can always rearrange the meals if need be. The mansion is always secure, and Raisa does love to cook for smaller parties.”

 

“I’ll let them know, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary,” Oliver shook his head. “At least I hope not.”

 

The frown Moira directed at her son now was quizzical, “Raisa really won’t mind, Oliver. You know that.”

 

“Yeah, Raisa won’t, but Felicity will.”

 

“I see,” Moira said again, waiting for a moment to see if he’d say more, but then she went on when he didn’t. “Well, whatever works for them, I’m sure Señor Salazar won’t mind. Did you ask Felicity about the necklace at all?”

 

“No,” Oliver admitted with a grimace, “Kind of slipped my mind when Nyssa’s head bodyguard answered the door this morning.”

 

It was easy to see how _that_ would’ve come as a surprise. His girlfriend lived by herself—on the rarer and rarer occasions that Oliver, himself, wasn’t there these days.

 

“Well, make sure you mention it before the meal then,” Moira advised gently. “I’m sure she had her reasons for pulling the necklace from the auction at the last minute, so we don’t want to surprise her with this.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Oliver agreed, nodding again. “I should be getting back soon anyway.”

 

“Of course, darling—”

 

“How long are you working?”

 

Moira didn’t roll her eyes, but she honestly considered it. “A few hours, at least,” she reached out to catch his hand between both of her own and squeezing gently. “Thank you for stopping by, Oliver, but you don’t need to worry about me.”

 

Her son still looked conflicted. He hid it well these days—where it once would’ve overtaken his whole face now it was just in his eyes—but she could still see it most of the time. After a long moment, though, he finally nodded. “Okay. You’ll let me know if I can help?” he tried again.

 

Moira couldn’t help but smile a little. He reminded her so much of his father just then, although that protective stubbornness also came from her. “You have enough to worry about with _Verdant_ —and now Felicity’s family visiting, too.”

 

“Mom—”

 

“But yes, I’ll let you know if you can help,” Moira lied. Her smile slipped a little as she said it though, because she was a little disturbed to realize just how easy it’d become to lie to the people she loved…

 

“I mean it, Mom,” Oliver insisted, so maybe her lies weren’t as soon as she thought.

 

“I understand,” Moira told him anyway. “Now, I should be getting back to work. And you should be taking your girlfriend and her cousin somewhere else.”

 

Oliver snorted, “Yeah, probably not till she’s finished whatever she had to come in here for. She’s stubborn.”

 

Moira chuckled, “That must be how she puts up with you.”

 

“Must be,” Oliver agreed with a laugh that made her heart feel a little lighter just hearing it.

 

Just a month till this was all over. Until the Undertaking was done and they could all get on with their lives.

 

God help them.

* * *

 

Next: More Conversations.

Felicity's first love was a long time ago, but she's helped many others through it since...

and unfortunately she's dealt with betrayal before, too.

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, there it is. Hope it was worth the wait.  
> Honestly I’d WANTED to post it on my birthday but it just didn’t work. I wasn’t feeling that celebratory and I think this fell by the wayside as a result. Sorry. I would’ve thought having the new puppy around at work would’ve helped, and he did—he’s an absolutely adorable 12 week old lab-mix that has all of us playing much more than working at the moment. That’s been fun, but it may also be where a lot of my creative energy has vanished to lately. Sorry again.  
> I don’t actually have that much else to say tonight, which is kind of weird, I know.  
> I would, however, like to thank everyone for your kind comments thus far. They really do help, even though it may not seem like it. When I can’t find anything else to motivate me to keep writing, going back to what you guys have said usually works. There are some times I need it more than others, of course, but even when the ideas are blowing up all around me it doesn’t hurt to add a little more fuel to the fire to keep it going. So, again: thank you.  
> Now the next scene is yet MORE conversations. Hence the unimaginative title. I’m leaning towards keep it, so you guys will probably see it soon. I just have to decide what I’m doing for the scene after it—in case I need to chop up and scramble or just completely rewrite the ending. So ideally it’ll be ready soon.  
> Comments, as always, are appreciated forever and ever! ;-)


	7. More Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First, I would also like to say Happy Veterans’ Day. To all the men and women who have served in uniform—in the past, present and going on into the future: thank you for your service. This world can be a scary place, so it’s nice to know that there are some people who really want to keep the rest of us safe. Be they the military abroad and the first responders that can come to our rescue at any time.  
> Also, I would like to thank Palomapg for the latest additions to the Felicitas Artwork. It's amazing!  
> And here’s the next chapter! And surprise, surprise: we’re still talking a lot. Enjoy! ;-)

**_Chapter 7: More Conversations_**.

_Felicity's P.O.V. _

 

“So?” Felicity asked with a raised eyebrow and a little smile to put the young woman at ease. “What’s got you up so early on a Saturday when you don’t have to work?” she turned her back on the girl to grab water bottles out of the little mini-fridge she’d had installed in her office. Glasses were classier, of course—that’s why they were in the meeting room just like they were on all of the upper levels of _Queen Consolidated_ —but the little personal size drinks that hotels loved to over-charge for were a lot easier in the office day-to-day.

 

“You know I don’t actually work on Saturdays,” Thea told her. “The courts aren’t open, so _C.N.R.I_ can’t justify interns, even court-mandated ones like me.” She rolled her eyes as she added, “Laurel’s probably there already though.”

 

“Oh? Does she have a big case?” Felicity asked as she handed the teen her drink and sat down while unscrewing the top of her own to take a sip.

 

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. With Laurel even the little cases are important,” Thea laughed, shaking her head. “But I think she’s been putting in more Saturday mornings because she can catch Tommy for breakfast—then he heads to bed and she goes to work. Personally I’d think brunch or lunch would work better, but what do I know?”

 

Felicity chuckled, still offering the same reassuring little smile. “You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out, before taking another sip of her water.

 

“No,” Thea sighed, toying with the cap of her own water bottle but not completely unscrewing it.

 

After a long moment, Felicity pushed again. “What’s bothering you, Thea?” she asked gently.

 

“Nothing. I mean, not really,” the teen sighed again, longer this time. Then it all came rushing out. “Everything’s great. Roy and I are great. You and Oliver are amazing. Even Mom’s kind of happy with the work she’s doing, I think,” she shrugged, then grimaced. “Well, I mean, I did, until you told Ollie she’s worried about something.”

 

“I’m sure they’re having a nice chat of their own right now, and that can work wonders,” Felicity reassured her, before cocking her head to the side. “So you’re worried because we’re all happy?”

 

“No—I mean, yeah, sort of,” Thea said, dropping backwards onto the couch to sink into its soft cushions and letting her head fall onto its back with another long sigh. “It’s stupid.”

 

“It’s not,” Felicity immediately refuted, setting her water down on the glass table and then reaching out to take the girl’s hand. “You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

 

“Yeah, kind of?” Thea grimaced, going quiet for a long handful of seconds again before she softly asked. “Do you think they’ll like him? Roy, I mean? Do you think Ollie and my mom will like him?”

 

“I do.” Felicity answered immediately, ignoring the skeptical look her automatic response earned to give the teen the confident nod she needed. “Once your brother manages to get over the fact that you’re dating, of course.”

 

Thea snorted. “You mean he hasn’t?”

 

“Oh no. I’m pretty sure he very determinedly doesn’t think about it as much as he can. So that’ll be a work-in-progress for a while. Maybe a long while,” Felicity chuckled.

 

“I’m not twelve anymore,” Thea grumbled, rolling her eyes when the blonde snorted in response.

 

“Twelve, twenty or a hundred and two, Oliver is always going to be over-protective when it comes to you.” Felicity grimaced at the unintended rhyme, but kept going smoothly. “It’s a big brother thing. And it’s just the way he is, too. We have to accept that.”

 

She felt like a hypocrite letting her mouth form that last part. She’d certainly railed against her own ‘big brother’ more than enough times to understand where Thea, like many other little sisters out there, was coming from with frustrations in that regard. And unlike them it was a battle that’d likely go on for all eternity between her and Methos—as long as they didn’t do something stupid and lose their heads.

 

Thea nodded slowly. “Well, he’s not gonna scare Roy off. I mean, I don’t care what Ollie taught himself on that island, Roy grew up in the Glades,” she finished with a grimace.

 

“Fair point, I guess,” Felicity shrugged again, not letting herself put any thought at all into _that_ because the girl didn’t have the slightest clue how dangerous her brother had become because of that island. And wherever else he’d been in the interim—because he couldn’t have taught himself Russian or joined the Bratva while he was trapped on Lian Yu…

 

“He lives there,” Thea went on, grimacing again. “It’s too early in our relationship to make Roy move, isn’t it?”

 

“Probably,” Felicity agreed, and then asked, “Are you worried about him living in the Glades?”

 

“Yeah…” Thea grimaced again. “I know he can handle himself better than I ever could, but I wish he lived somewhere safer.”

 

“Of course you do, you care about him,” Felicity offered with a little smile before she went on. “Well, you’re almost out of high school,” she pointed out. “If you’re looking for a place of your own in the city then you could probably get him to move in with you. As long as that isn’t too fast for you?”

 

“Few months to graduation,” Thea agreed. “Mom hates that I’m taking a break before college, but she gave up on arguing about my applying for next year back in October.”

 

“Your brother’s rescue must’ve kept you both busy for a while then,” Felicity offered.

 

“Yeah…” Thea swallowed, before swiftly shaking her head again. “It was great, to get him back. More than great. _Amazing_. Mom said it was a miracle, and I guess it was.”

 

“It was. It must have been incredible for you,” the Immortal acknowledged softly. And it was an easy admission to give. The list of people she’d love to see come back from beyond the grave was longer than she could let herself think about most of the time. “And hard, too?”

 

Thea nodded. “He was so different.” She shrugged. “I mean, I know I’m different, too. And he had to go through a lot, surviving on his own like he did. But…”

 

Felicity waited when the girl trailed off uncertainly, patiently waiting for her to finish the thought because she had to.

 

“But I wanted him to be the same. Even though I’m not,” Thea shook her head. “I know it’s stupid. I’m not the little kid I was when he—when the boat sank,” she sighed, shaking her head again. “But I still wanted him to be the same…”

 

“Change is hard, for everyone,” Felicity offered softly. “Throw it in with the unexpected—even a miracle—and it’s just that much harder.”

 

“I guess…”

 

“You’ve changed a lot, too,” the Immortal pointed out. “In just the last few months. You’ve made a lot of progress.”

 

“Thanks, I guess,” Thea grimaced again. “But it’s not like I had much choice.”

 

“You did have a choice, and you made it,” Felicity told her firmly, not about to let that go.

 

“My only other choice was prison,” Thea grumbled. “Becoming Laurel’s office slave seemed better by comparison.”

 

“And I’m sure you’re doing excellent work there,” Felicity told her with another smile.

 

“I guess,” Thea shrugged. “It’s been great a few times. Being able to help people,” she paused, and then admitted with a sigh. “Sometimes it makes me feel bad though, that I have so much, I mean…”

 

“When so many people have so little?” Felicity asked when the teen trailed off, going on after she’d nodded. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Thea. You are fortunate, and you’re not a fault for that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t help people who aren’t as fortunate as you are.”

 

“What? Like write them a big check?” Thea shook her head. “I already tried that, twice. Both times Laurel told me that I shouldn’t be trying to give money to her client. That that wasn’t why I was there.”

 

“Because it’s not,” Felicity nodded. “You’re there to help _C.N.R.I_ , so that the lawyers there—like Laurel—can help the people who need their help.”

 

“It just doesn’t seem like enough,” Thea complained.

 

Felicity reached over and caught her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Every little bit helps, try to remember that.”

 

Thea looked into her eyes for a moment, then looked down with a sigh. “Okay,” she agreed softly, squeezing back as she did so.

 

“Are you enjoying the work?” Felicity asked her then.

 

“It’s not hard,” Thea shrugged. “And everyone’s really nice. I mean, I thought they’d treat me like an idiot—you know, for taking Vertgio and driving. But they don’t. They say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and trust me to ask for help if I need it. It’s kind of… nice,” she admitted with a shrug.

 

“Thinking of following Laurel’s career path, then? After your year off and then college?”

 

“Oh god no! I _hate_ court,” Thea shuddered, shaking her head sharply.

 

Felicity chuckled, but otherwise kept quiet as the teen continued.

 

“But I think I might want to have more to do with some of the charities that mom’s always talking about,” Thea admitted softly. “Try to give back a little, you know?”

 

“And keep helping people,” Felicity nodded approvingly. “It’s a good idea. You might even start some charities of your own,” she suggested, smiling when that earned her an incredulous look from the teen.

 

“I wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”

 

“That’s half the fun,” Felicity told her, before remarking, “I’d help you. Oliver and your mom would, too. Tommy. Laurel.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Thea agreed, though there was still a bit of disbelief in her tone. It faded as she went on, to be replaced by fondness. “I can’t complain about _C.N.R.I_ too much either way. If I wasn’t working there, I wouldn’t have met Roy.”

 

“The silver lining,” Felicity chuckled, shaking her head. “But Thea, you did have a choice. That your choices were limited doesn’t mean they’re not choices, and it doesn’t mean you didn’t then make that choice that you’re now living with. You were a legal adult by the time your case made it to trial, so no one could take that choice from you.”

 

“I guess.” Thea shrugged. “Ollie and Laurel practically took the whole thing over,” she shook her head. “I actually thought they might be getting back together again then—bonding because of me being an idiot.”

 

Felicity hesitated a moment, but decided the teen wouldn’t have mentioned it if she didn’t want to talk about it. “Would that have been a bad thing?” she asked, ignoring the pang her own heart gave at what that change would’ve—could’ve—meant for her.

 

“Yes,” Thea insisted immediately. “Tommy would’ve been heartbroken. And Ollie might not have started dating you.”

 

Felicity chuckled. “Maybe, maybe not. But if your brother is happy, do you really care that much about who he’s happy with?”

 

“No, I guess.” Thea shook her head again. “But he wouldn’t want to hurt Tommy. And he wasn’t happy with Laurel; I think he just wanted to be. I mean, if he _was_ happy, he wouldn’t have cheated on her all the time and broken up with her so many times.”

 

It could be argued that people who did in fact love their significant others and were happy with them could fall short of the loyalty that love expected of them, but that wasn’t a debate Felicity felt like having. Mostly because she agreed. Love and happiness didn’t always go hand-in-hand, because sometimes life was hard—sometimes it even seemed impossible.

 

That was why a relationship had to be built on more than just attraction, compatibility, or even love. There had to be a foundation of trust there, a sense that sharing the burdens of your life with another could help you both. And that wasn’t something she wanted to try outlining now—not when she and Oliver weren’t there yet. They might be getting close, but each of them had steps to take to get there. And Thea was only a few weeks into her own relationship with Roy Harper anyway, so there was no point in mentioning it to her yet.

 

“Besides, Laurel and Tommy seem really happy together,” Thea went on after a few moments of thoughtful silence. “Most of the time, anyway.”

 

“That’s all anyone can hope for,” Felicity told her softly.

 

That earned her a frown from the teenager. “You and Ollie are happy, right?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, you seem to be?”

 

“We are,” Felicity nodded, smiling slightly. “Most of the time. We’re still a work-in-progress though. Plenty of skeletons that haven’t poked their heads out of the closets just yet…” she trailed off with a sigh, not letting herself frown at the sinking sensation she felt just referring to her secrets.

 

“Well, Ollie can’t complain too much about at any of your mistakes.” Thea snorted, “And you know most of Ollie’s worst screw ups. _Everyone_ does. I don’t think the tabloids missed any of them. Except for whatever happened to him on that island…” she frowned again then. “Does he talk to you about that?”

 

Felicity met her gaze for a moment then, and decided to answer because of the honest concern she saw there. “A little,” she admitted softly, “When he wants to talk about it.”

 

Which admittedly wasn’t often, but the ancient Immortal had plenty of practice reading between the lines. And there were plenty of lines to read between. From what he did and didn’t say. From the scars. From the skills he’d picked up to survive along the way. From his Bratva tattoo. From his _ARGUS_ file… and the list went on.

 

“He won’t tell Mom and me anything,” Thea said with a half-hearted huff. “He said that it was cold there. I asked what it was like, that first night after he got back. Which was probably stupid,” she sighed again. “But he just said it was cold. And he won’t tell me how he got so many scars...”

 

“Some stories are a lot harder to tell than others,” Felicity replied just as softly.

 

“Yeah,” Thea sighed. “Well, I’m glad he’s talking to you. I told him he needed to talk to _someone_ , but that was months ago.”

 

“Better late than never?” Felicity offered, making the teenager snort.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Thea looked down; again toying with the cap of the water bottle she hadn’t taken a single sip from yet.

 

“You know, Roy will probably be nervous about meeting your family,” Felicity pointed out. “Even if he doesn’t show it.”

 

Thea blinked, but then nodded. “I guess he would be. Not that he’ll admit it.”

 

“No, most guys won’t, that’s why we think about it.” Felicity raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to introduce them at a fancy restaurant? He’ll be completely out of his comfort zone.”

 

The teen grimaced again, “Yeah, but I don’t think he’d change out of his hoodie and jeans for something else.”

 

Felicity shrugged. “Maybe not, but a hoodie and jeans would look fine at _Big Belly Burger_ , and your mom even likes it there.”

 

Thea blinked twice at that. “When did my Mom go to _Big Belly Burger_?”

 

“When your brother brought her there a few months ago. They’ve gone back twice since then, maybe more than that, but I know about those three times.”

 

“Huh, they didn’t tell me,” Thea looked thoughtful, then she shook her head slowly. “Now I kinda want to see that.” She sighed. “But then Roy’ll definitely wear his hoodie. He always wears that hoodie. Except when he’s working at _Verdant_ , because of the dress code.”

 

“Well, you could buy him another one then,” Felicity suggested mildly. “Or a coat. It is cold out, being winter and all.”

 

Thea blinked at her again, before she grinned. “Oh my god, that’s _perfect!_ ” she sprang to her feet suddenly. “I have to go shopping.”

 

Felicity rose to follow her more sedately to the office doors. “One coat, Thea. Maybe another hoodie or two.”

 

The teen paused to look back at her again. “Yeah, yeah,” she nodded quickly. “Any more than that and he’d probably accuse me of making him my charity case again.”

 

Felicity gently caught her shoulder before she could turn to leave. “So? Is he coming to the dinner or are we planning another dinner soon?”

 

Thea grimaced, before nodding again. “Yeah, he’d like burgers a lot more, so would I for that matter,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “But I’ll be there tonight.”

 

Felicity laughed. “I’d prefer burgers, too, and thank you. Have fun shopping.” She expected the brunette to leave as soon as she released her shoulder, but instead Thea looked at the elevators with a frown, glancing upward before she looked back at Felicity.

 

“Should I check on my mom?”

 

Felicity stepped closer to gently hug her. “That’s what Oliver’s doing right now. You probably don’t want to interrupt. Maybe call her later? Let her know about dinner with your boyfriend at _Big Belly_ next week?”

 

Whatever worries were whirling around Moira Queen’s mind, happy plans with her daughter was something the woman would appreciate.

 

Thea leaned into the hug for a moment, before nodding as she pulled back. “Yeah, that’ll work,” she agreed, then asked, “You and Ollie will be there, too, right?”

 

“Of course we will,” Felicity agreed, gently squeezing her shoulders before letting go. “Now off with you. That coat won’t buy itself.”

 

“Thanks, Felicity,” Thea said sincerely.

 

Felicity watched her leave with a  little smile on her face, though the one on her own fell away after the elevator doors had closed behind the teen again and her ‘cousin’ joined her in the office.

 

“That appeared to go well,” Nyssa observed.

 

Felicity shrugged, “Early relationship drama. We all go through it. Some of us more than others.” She sighed, turning to walk back to her desk where she pressed the button that made the inner panels of her office go dark as she sat down, gesturing to the chairs opposite her. “Have a seat, Nyssa.”

 

The Pre-Immortal obeyed immediately, almost managing to appear completely at ease as she did so. “You should opaque the windows as well,” she indicated the outer glass panels that the mid-morning sunlight was shining clearly through. “For security.”

 

Felicity laughed, “Is Al-Tamah a sniper?” she asked, highly doubting it, considering the League’s stance on ‘modern weaponry.’ Something she’d debated with her brother more than once—the failure in logic to insist on handicapping themselves by not even considering using guns and the like. The Amazons trained in much the same way, but some of the weapons _they’d_ developed put the weapons of this age to shame, and that was without very many major advances since the First Age.

 

“No, of course not,” Nyssa shook her head. “But—”

 

Felicity interrupted her, “Even if he were, there’s no good vantage into this office. We’re too high up,” she shrugged unconcernedly. “Beside, I’d sense him if he was anywhere nearby. He’s not.”

 

“He might be hiding his—”

 

“Your father would have told me if any of his warriors had that level of control over their Quickening. Even he can’t completely mask his presence, despite extensive training with me and plenty of practice.” Felicity shook her head. “It’s not a skill you just pick up, Nyssa. Like most of the added powers we can gain from our Quickening, it takes a great deal of time, effort and discipline to master.”

 

“I am relieved to hear it, ‘Ama,” Nyssa told her honestly.

 

“Which brings us to others matters,” Felicity met her eyes seriously. “Malcolm Merlyn.”

 

Nyssa frowned, “You said we needed proof that Al Sa-her has broken League Law.”

 

“Exactly, we do.” Felicity nodded. “And we’re going to work to get it.”

 

The Daughter of the Demon hesitated only a moment before she asked, “How may I serve?”

 

Felicity sighed as she turned to look out the windows of this office that she still wasn’t used to.

 

Skyscrapers weren’t new to her. While they were a relatively recent phenomenon—in the span of her very long life and all the history she’d witnessed—the world was always changing and everyone had to learn how to adapt; Immortals most of all. These massive buildings that truly scraped into the sky were a modern marvel for sure: before the architectural frameworks of reinforced concrete or sturdy steel they wouldn’t have been possible. Before the invention of elevators, or the water pumps that made plumbing possible so high up, no one would want them. What bothered her most about them, though, was the sheer height, which was entirely her brother’s fault, of course. At least these windows didn’t open…

 

“‘Ama?” Nyssa asked her uncertainly, not even trying to hide her hesitation at breaking into her honorary aunt’s thoughts. Not that she was thinking anything particularly relevant right now, but this girl that’d apparently grown up on tales of ancient triumphs wouldn’t imagine that.

 

Felicity forced herself to look back at the girl. “We have an opportunity now, with both Al Sa-her and Al-Tamsah here.”

 

Nyssa frowned in clear disagreement. “While it means we can focus our resources here, we still have two traitors to worry about, ‘Ama.”

 

“We do,” Felicity nodded. “But Malcolm Merlyn doesn’t know that, does he?”

 

Nyssa blinked, then slowly shook her head. “No, ‘Ama. Al Sa-her’s contact with the League has been limited for years now. My father has had no reason to call him back to Nanda Parbat until now.”

 

“But he is still one of your father’s vassals, isn’t he?”

 

Nyssa nodded with her disagreeing frown still fixed in place. “He is. For several years now he has acted as a business contact of the League, which has been useful.”

 

“Helping assassins in and out of various places, setting up safe houses, that sort of thing?” Felicity theorized out loud.

 

Nyssa’s frown had slipped away behind stern duty by the time she nodded now. “Yes. He also ensures that Nanda Parbat has continued access to necessary resources.”

 

“Weapons?” Felicity guessed.

 

“Mostly the materials to make them,” Nyssa replied evenly. “Though our arrows, throwing stars and the like are purchased in bulk. They are all inspected at Nanda Parbat and some adjustments are made as needed,” she paused a moment, then nodded slowly. “I believe Al Sa-her is chiefly responsible for completing those orders.”

 

“That makes sense,” Felicity replied, cocking her head to the side as she asked. “I suppose he’s expected to keep track of the League’s enemies as well?”

 

“Of course, ‘Ama,” Nyssa replied, her tone not quite implying that went without saying but far closer than she’d gotten to that so far. “All of the League must do so at all times.”

 

“Of course,” Felicity nodded. “And does Al-Tamsah know about Al Sa-her?”

 

Nyssa blinked, before pausing to clearly consider her answer again. She thought for several long moments before she shook her head. “While they have both been at Nanda Parbat at the same time, I do not believe they were ever directly acquainted. And no, Al Sa-her’s treachery is not common knowledge yet, as you indicated that would be unwise.”

 

“Good, that’s one less thing to worry about,” Felicity approved. “And it means it’s something we can use, too.”

 

Nyssa only waited for her to continue this time, clearly not wanting to demonstrate her confusion or her frustration anymore than she already had. Smart girl.

 

“We don’t know what Malcolm Merlyn is doing,” Felicity reminded her. “We know that he’s up to something, and given the complexity of the conspiracy so far—the players involved, the lengths he’s already gone to—I’d imagine it’s something big.” She shook her head. “Something much bigger than merely offending me.”

 

“There is nothing ‘mere’ about it,” Nyssa protested, actually scowling now. “He has offended you, one of the mostly highly Honored Ones as well as my father’s sister and teacher. Your home is protected by the will of Ra’s al Ghul. My father gave you his word on that; no member of the League may operate here without your permission. Al Sa-her knows this, he was reminded of it when you first moved here. And he knowingly went against the will of Ra’s al Ghul regardless.” Nyssa shook her head in exasperation. “I do not understand why you think this has to be any more complicated than that, ‘Ama. It isn’t.”

 

“You don’t want it to be. No one ever wants the world to be complicated, but it always is. Life, the world, everything—there’s very few things that can be as simple as we’d want them to be.” Felicity shook her head. “Your father is as much a ruler as any of the sovereigns of the old kingdoms. His rule is absolute, but that does not mean it cannot be challenged. All anyone needs is the right reason to do so.”

 

“They do not need even that,” Nyssa objected. “

Yes, if Al Sa-her believes the charges against him are unjust he may demand a trial by combat. But League Law does not require even that much. Anyone may challenge Ra’s al Ghul if they prefer that method of suicide.”

 

“You are very confident in your father,” Felicity smiled softly as she shook her head. “Can you even imagine him losing that fight?”

 

Nyssa blinked at her again, and then scowled again. “Al Sa-her is a highly skilled warrior, but even he cannot compare to Ra’s al Ghul.”

 

“Mazin may well be a far better swordsman,” Felicity shrugged. “I haven’t sparred with him in—well, longer than you’ve been alive. I’m sure he’s still training just as hard as he always was and that he continues to improve.”

 

Nyssa’s blink now was of complete surprise, “You have fought my father?”

 

“No,” Felicity gave her another smile. “Training and sparring only. We’ve never intended each other true harm.” She shook her head, “Which is, I think, why he’s never come close to winning against me. He was never willing to fight me with the level of brutality and decisiveness he’d have to use to actually win.”

 

Of course Felicitas, herself, had been holding back, too. Much as it might help them sharpen her skills, she never went all-out with her students. That was saved for actual fights when the objective was the removal of her opponent’s head and the end of their life on the eternal stage. But that wasn’t something she really needed to say: Nyssa seemed to have a sharp enough mind to pick it up all on her own. She didn’t need it shoved in her face.

 

“You are his sister, and one of the most Honored Ones,” Nyssa said again, shaking her head. “I confess, I am surprised he fought you at all.”

 

“Like you said, I’m also his respected teacher, Nyssa,” Felicity pointed, shrugging her shoulders. “He was a warrior before we met, and what he learned from me was mostly lessons in leadership. How to build and maintain his empire. How to inspire and hold loyalty. But we taught each other a few things for combat as well. The lessons in catching arrows and dodging bullets came from the Amazons, after all, and I am the only Amazon he has learned from.”

 

“He did say that,” Nyssa admitted slowly, and she was clearly thinking about all the lessons she’d had over her lifetime. Wondering what else had been passed onto her from the aunt she’d never met before she’d come here not so long ago.

 

“I can see his teaching in the way you fight,” Felicity told her gently. “And Al-Owal’s. They were your primary teachers, I think?”

 

Nyssa nodded slowly. “After Talia left, father took over my training personally.”

 

“Talia?” Felicity frowned, trying to place the name to anyone she’d met before at Nanda Parbat and failing.

 

“My sister,” Nyssa shrugged. “Father adopted her years ago. She was Heir to the Demon, and my first teacher, before she decided to leave the League.” She shook her head. “I have not seen her in years.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Felicity offered automatically, not sure what to make of the calm look on the young woman’s face.

 

And there was another Daughter of the Demon out there. One who was adopted before Nyssa was born—and so must have been at Nanda Parbat when Felicity was last there. Perhaps hidden amongst all the warriors that’d also attended their master’s wedding? Why hadn’t Mazin introduced her?

 

“As you say, life is complicated,” Nyssa shrugged. “My sister taught me many things. Then she chose to abandon me. And our father. I will never understand why.”

 

“Did you ask her?” Felicity pressed gently.

 

The princess of assassins sighed. “I did not have the chance, for she did not say farewell. One day I joined my father for breakfast and learned that she had left in the night. There was nothing to be done but accept it.”

 

“Still, that must have been hard,” Felicity murmured, trying to repress her innate curiosity and failing. Yet more questions she’d have for her second brother the next time they met, if all went well…

 

Nyssa hesitated, and then nodded slowly. “It was. But it is in the past, ‘Ama.”

 

Felicity nodded her acceptance. “Well, she taught you well in the beginning then. And your father showed good judgment in having her instruct you initially. We women are capable of almost everything men are, just like men can do almost everything that we can. The difference is in understanding that sometimes we have to do it in a different way.”

 

“Yes, ‘Ama,” Nyssa dutifully replied, then paused again before she slowly admitted. “Father did say you had taught him that.”

 

“Another lesson passed on from the Amazons,” Felicity admitted with a shrug. “I learned much with them, a great deal of it in martial skill.” She shook her head again. “But we’ve wondered from the point of this conversation.”

 

“Al Sa-her.”

 

“Yes,” Felicity nodded. “We need to figure out what he’s planning and why.”

 

“Why?” Nyssa frowned; clearly not thinking that the traitor’s reasoning should matter at all. How quickly trust and loyalty could turn…

 

“Knowing one’s motivations is always important, Nyssa,” Felicity told her sternly. “It’s how you figure out how to anticipate what they’ll do next. And it’s the only way you can ever hope for civil, meaningful dialogue with them.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen far more than enough of war; it’s never something to hope for.”

 

“Of course, ‘Ama,” Nyssa agreed, still frowning. “But Al Sa-her is only one man.”

 

“He’s a very wealthy man who’s in charge of an international company. Given the right circumstances he can be much more powerful than the leaders of some countries. I’m sure he knows how to bring those circumstances about,” Felicity shook her head. “And that is what the whole world knows about him. We also know that he’s a highly skilled fighter. That he has means and connections that have been of great use to the League for years.”

 

“All the more reason to bring him to Nanda Parbat to face my father,” Nyssa insisted.

 

“It may come to that,” Felicity allowed, shaking her head. “I’d prefer to know that he doesn’t have followers of his own in the League who might then help him. I’d like to know that some of the League’s secrets—such as the location of Nanda Parbat—won’t fall into the hands of your father’s enemies as some sort of security measure.”

 

Nyssa stared at her for several seconds before she hissed, “He wouldn’t dare.”

 

“A desperate man might dare to do many things you’d think were unimaginable. And a dead man, or a man who knows he’s soon to be dead, can do even more out of simple vengeance,” Felicity shook her head. “That is why we must be careful. Courage is all well and good, but often times caution can save many more lives.”

 

“Not always.”

 

“No, not always,” Felicity agreed with a sigh. “Some enemies have to be met head on. But I prefer to believe that those circumstances are few and far between. Don’t you?”

 

Nyssa frowned as she thought about it, and then responded slowly. “I do not think I am the right person to ask. The League seeks out the evil in the world.”

 

“To eliminate it.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“To protect everyone else.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You deserve thanks for that, though many might argue that your methodology is at best outdated, and at worst; wrong.”

 

“It isn’t,” Nyssa insisted firmly, defiant courage in every word. “Some men are simply too evil to be left to fester and rot, spreading their evil wherever they go.”

 

“Some men,” Felicity agreed honestly. “Some women, too.”

 

“There are still many places in the world where power protects only the powerful. That their power comes from their corrupt government or even evil deeds does not always mean the world will intervene.”

 

“No it doesn’t,” Felicity agreed again. “Even here in Starling City, in a country where the law should protect everybody, there are many that believe in the Arrow.”

 

“Your beloved is doing good work here,” Nyssa agreed easily. “Another reason Al Sa-her should be punished for harming him.”

 

“And he still might be,” Felicity allowed. “But first we have to know what he’s capable of and what he’s doing.”

 

Nyssa sighed. “The night Al Sa-her confronted your beloved, he might have killed him.”

 

“He might have, but he didn’t.”

 

“If he had—”

 

“If he had I would have called the League in to investigate then, too.” Felicity shook her head. “I barely knew Oliver then, and had only worked with him on a few things, but I’d still want to know why someone from the League had killed him.”

 

“In your city, without your permission,” Nyssa added.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you wouldn’t want him brought before Ra’s al Ghul then?”

 

“I might,” Felicity shook her head. “But I probably would still want to see more of the picture,” she sighed, before trying to explain. “Focusing on the problem is important, Nyssa, but that doesn’t mean you should ever let yourself lose sight of everything else.”

 

“What else is there?” Nyssa demanded.

 

“Malcolm Merlyn is knowingly defying the will of Ra’s al Ghul by operating within Starling City without my permission. Why?” Felicity spread her hands. “What could he possibly consider important enough to risk your father’s wrath?”

 

“I do not know.”

 

“And you also don’t know how much farther he’s prepared to go. Is he going to create his own League? Has he done so already? Will he challenge your father directly? Or has he already thrown in with the League’s enemies?”

 

“I do not know,” Nyssa admitted again.

 

“Neither do I.” Felicity nodded. “I’m sorry, but he’s simply not as clean-cut as the Crocodile…” she trailed off for a second, then demanded. “What is his real name, anyway? You were going to find out?”

 

“Gebhard Dunst,” Nyssa replied. “He was a foundling in Germany, in the twelfth century and was raised among the Knights Templar.”

 

“A templar?” Felicity shook her head. “Did Navid ever trust him?”

 

 

Nyssa hesitated another moment, then answered, “I do not know, ‘Ama,” she admitted, then added: “I do know that Al-Owal was aware of his history.”

 

“Of course he was,” Felicity smiled slightly. “He’s been your father’s right-hand for a while now, Nyssa. Being prepared with all such information when he is asked for it is one of his many unofficial responsibilities.”

 

“Only I should have unofficially asked for it sooner?”

 

“Perhaps,” Felicity shrugged. “Perhaps not. Yes, you didn’t know the answers when I asked, but has that yet led to any other problems?”

 

“No,” Nyssa shook her head. “But I should have known.”

 

“You are your father’s daughter,” Felicity told her with a little smile. “He never liked not having the answers either.” She held Nyssa’s gaze as she shook her head. “We all are learning, Nyssa. Every day. The lessons you received growing up were a fine basis, but life will teach you much more—each and every day, if you let it.”

 

“Yes, ‘Ama.”

 

Felicity looked back out at the horizon again, studying the clouds that were creeping towards the city with idle curiosity. “If Dunst was a templar in the twelfth century, he would’ve taken part in the Third Crusade under Barbarossa.”

 

“Al-Owal could tell you much more, ‘Ama,” Nyssa pointed out, gesturing towards the inner windows, through which they could see the two ‘bodyguards’ on duty by the elevator and the receptionist that shouldn’t be here on a Saturday pretending to ignore them. “Should he join us?”

 

“No. I have what I need to study this traitor myself now,” Felicity told her, confident in the fact that Navid would have already reported everything about this former templar turned assassin turned traitor to the League of Shadows. That meant others were already looking into him, and there was no reason to make Nyssa waste her time on it. “For now, Nyssa, you should focus on Malcolm Merlyn.”

 

“Why?” Nyssa asked, frowning in unhidden confusion. “I understand that we might use Al Sa-her against Al-Tamsah, and thus test his loyalty. But why?” she shook her head. “Why do we need to bother?”

 

Felicity chuckled, “I’ve already explained it, Nyssa,” she shook her head. “Now you’re only arguing for argument’s sake.”

 

“No, ‘Ama—”

 

“Try to trust me, please,” Felicity interrupted, turning back from the windows to catch the young warrior’s eyes. “If I’m wrong, I’ll handle the consequences.”

 

“But ‘Ama, we should be _looking_ for Al-Tamsah,” Nyssa protested, her tone hesitant even as the words burst out.

 

“You’re free to do so, you have plenty of men to do it,” Felicity shrugged, smiling softly in response to her frown. “Malcolm Merlyn is just one more.”

 

Nyssa’s little frown was still locked in place, but after a moment she bowed her head. “As you wish, ‘Ama.”

 

“Thank you,” Felicity nodded back, before blinking as her cell phone started ringing—or more accurately the faint sound of muted drums and trumpets started blaring as best they could with the volume turned down before a chorus call and then the voice of Robin Williams started singing the enthusiast song lyrics that she just couldn’t resist for her boyfriend’s best friend, despite how tense things had been between the two of late…

_Make way! For Prince Ali!_

_Say hey! It’s Prince Ali!_

_Hey! Clear the way in the old bazaar!_

_Hey you! Let us through! It’s a bright new star!_

_Oh come! Be the first on the block to meet his eye!_

Felicity shook her head, smiling slightly as she saw that the frown had finally fallen from her niece’s face, because it’d become a look of slight bewilderment as she looked at the phone. Not surprising, since it was highly unlikely that Mazin might’ve ever let her watch a Disney movie. “Excuse me,” she offered as she reached for the phone to answer the call.

_Make way! Here he comes! Ring bells! Bang the drums!_

_Oh, you’re gonna love this guy!_

“Hello?” Felicity answered with all the pleasantness she always tried to aim for—because it just made phone calls easier, even if it was goal that couldn’t _always_ be met and didn’t _always_ work. It was still a good rule of thumb all the same.

 

“ _Hey Felicity,_ ” Tommy’s voice came through with far less cheer then she was used to hearing from him. “ _Uh, we may have a problem…_ ”

 

“Hi Tommy,” Felicity replied, then asked; “What kind of problem?”

 

Tommy sighed before he tried to explain, “ _Laurel’s dad was just here. He says a girl was killed last night on Starling Bridge after she left the club._ ”

 

“That’s terrible,” Felicity replied honestly, shaking her head. “But accidents happen every day. How is it our problem?”

 

“ _It wasn’t an accident,_ ” Tommy sighed. “ _She wandered into the traffic ‘cause she was high on Vertigo. Lance thinks she got it here._ ”

 

Felicity thought about that for a long moment, turning all of the details over one by one. She wasn’t surprised that her friend went on before she was done.

 

“ _I thought the Count was gone?_ ” Tommy demanded unhappily, “ _That the Vigilante—the Arrow, I mean—I thought he got rid of him?_ ”

 

Felicity nodded slowly as all the details from a few months ago, and what little she’d taken the time to dig up since, came back to her. The Count was one of the villains Oliver had brought down before he’d had to bring her all the way into his operation because his mother had shot him. It made her smile, though, because she couldn’t help it as the memory of how horrible his cover story that time had been—he ran out of sports bottles.

 

“Yeah, he did,” Felicity answered evenly after that moment of thought. “Last I knew the Count wasn’t fit to stand trial though. Complete mental breakdown from the poison he made.”

 

Detective Lance’s outrage at the vigilante’s actions that night couldn’t have been clearer in his report after the fact, but many of his other officers had been a lot less condemning. At the end of the night, after all, a maniac who’d delighted in addicting people to his deadly cocktail so that it’d kill as many people as possible was off the streets.

 

The ends justify the means. Not a truth that everyone—or these days maybe even most people—agreed with, but it was often true nonetheless. Human history was defined by those that’d survived it; by whatever means necessary. In the age Felicitas had grown up in justice had been defined as ‘an eye for an eye,’ and giving the Count a near-overdose on his own drug fit that pretty well. Justice couldn’t operate blindly without significant protection more often than not, and even then it could never be perfect. But at least it worked—most of the time.

 

It was the world Felicitas had grown up in and usually understood, even though she hadn’t always liked it. And thanks to The Game it was the world she still lived in sometimes…

 

That Oliver had ultimately reacted so aggressively to Count Vertigo because the drug had landed Thea in the hospital, then in court and very nearly in jail was something she understood, too. Felicitas herself wasn’t very different. After all, the one way anyone could get her to turn very violently on them was if they harmed—or, at times, even threatened—her loved ones. An Immortal lifetime of loss after loss had hardwired that into her D.N.A and it wasn’t ever going to go away.

 

“ _Smoaky?_ ” Tommy’s voice came through the line again. “ _You still there?_ ”

 

“Yeah, I am, sorry I was lost in thought for a second there,” Felicity replied, “I haven’t heard anything about his case proceeding to trial, so he must still be in the insane asylum,” she went on carefully, realizing that she’d certainly have to look into it—even though the Count, like all the people Oliver put away, was flagged in her systems. Those systems only search for what she’d told them to: and she might have missed something considering she was considering the villain after-the-fact and when he’d been declared insane. “But you’re right, we will have to look into this.”

 

Nyssa was giving her a curious look now, to which Felicity immediately shook her head. She knew she’d have to be clearer than that to keep the League away from both Tommy Merlyn and _Verdant_ , but she’d given her new niece more than enough lectures for one morning already.

 

They may be somewhat useful to have around if this Vertigo was a big problem again. At the moment, however, none of her alerts had been triggered. And even if all the alarms she had set covering the _S.C.P.D_ had missed something, Nick would’ve mentioned it if it was a big problem. No matter how sore he was about his recent realizations. But it wouldn’t hurt to double-check either way.

 

“ _Ya think?_ ” Tommy snorted.

 

Felicity turned to look out the window again even as she rolled her eyes. “It was nice of Detective Lance to warn you, but don’t talk to him about any of this again without a lawyer present.”

 

“ _What?_ ” he suddenly sounded bewildered.

 

Felicity shook her head. “He’s investigating that poor girl’s death, Tommy. And his investigation brought him to _Verdant_.”

 

“ _So what? We haven’t done anything wrong!_ ” Tommy protested. “ _I mean, the nightclub’s legit. They can’t just—_ ”

 

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Felicity agreed. “But we haven’t been investigating the club’s clientele. And the bouncers only keep an eye out for weapons and violent behavior. For all we know there may be someone dealing drugs on the dance floor. And you don’t want the cops to tie that to you.”

 

“ _And you don’t want them to get a search warrant for the basement!_ ” Tommy grumbled.

 

“You’re right, I don’t. Though I have contingency plans for that. Several of them.” Felicity sighed, then admitted, “Including covering the payment you made for that. To keep the inspectors out of the basement?”

 

Tommy was silent for a solid second before he asked her disbelievingly, “ _How’d you know about that?_ ”

 

“I know many things, Tommy. And considering I’m the one who designed the club’s computer security it really shouldn’t surprise you that I’ve been keeping an eye on the books.”

 

She hadn’t been really. Her programs did all of that for her. She just looked at anything that set off alarms little and small. It hadn’t taken her long at all to figure out what Tommy had needed the spare ten-thousand dollars for; a city inspector was scheduled to check the club, and then he wasn’t.

 

What’d surprised her about it was Tommy hadn’t noticed that the missing money had reappeared back in the bank account—like it’d never been taken out. But then again no matter how well he’d been performing as the club’s manager—hiding his vigilante best friend’s secret lair and all—he wasn’t an accountant or a computer expert. He undoubtedly saw that the account was balanced and the ten grand didn’t figure into his mind much at all. He had been a trust-fund brat until his father had cut him off, after all: used to the money just being there for whatever it was needed for. There was more than enough money to pay the bribe, so it was done and then forgotten. The _Q.C_ accountants who balanced _Verdant’s_ books once a quarter because they were basically just another one of Oliver’s accounts hadn’t noticed the missing money because Felicity had already fixed it by the time they’d gotten to it for last quarter. Tommy got the report that the books balanced and didn’t even think about the fact that they shouldn’t have…

 

“ _How the hell do you have the time?_ ” Tommy wanted to know, now sounding more bewildered than annoyed.

 

“I don’t, and I don’t need it,” Felicity shook her head. “That’s what my many computer programs are for. Oh, and by the way, you should call Mister Messner again and remind him that he owes you all the documentation on the inspection he performed in January.”

 

“ _But he didn’t do one,_ ” Tommy said, clearly not getting it—or just not wanting to.

 

“No. He did.” Felicity told him, drawing out each word. “He saw everything and signed off on it. That’s his job, and you just paid him because he did it so well.”

 

“ _He’s gonna want more money for that,_ ” Tommy pointed out, not quite grumbling.

 

“If he does, let me know,” Felicity told him. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

“ _You will? Or the—_ ”

 

“I said **I** will, Tommy. And I will.”

 

 _Verdant’s_ General Manager sighed again. “I’m pretty sure Ollie wouldn’t like that.”

 

Felicity snorted, “You’re probably right. But we can’t have him handling it. His nightclub already has too much green and pointy objects or symbols all around it.”

 

Tommy was silent for just a second before he said, “ _Wow. You’re right… how did I never notice that?_ ” he asked, sounding almost amazed now, which probably meant was still at said nightclub and looking around at everything he’d never noticed before.

 

“I honestly have no idea,” Felicity shook her head. “But we’ve wandered off the topic. Call me if you have any problems getting the completed inspection certificate. And if the _S.C.P.D_ want anything else, at least talk to Laurel about any legal ramifications—”

 

“ _Yeah, yeah,_ ” Tommy cut her off, sighing himself as he added. “ _Ollie and I have dealt with the courts a few times before, Smoaky._ ”

 

Felicity didn’t let herself sigh this time, instead replying with steely seriousness. “The last time Vertigo touched the Queen name, Thea almost went to prison instead of the man that was making it.”

 

Tommy sighed again, “ _Point taken._ ”

 

“Thank you,” Felicity murmured, glancing towards the elevators as her computer emitted the soft ring of a bell to indicate their arrival. “It looks like Oliver’s done with his mom. I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

 

“ _Thanks, I guess,_ ” Tommy sighed.

 

“It’ll be fine, Tommy,” Felicity told him before he could hang up. “Just take everything one step at a time, okay?”

 

He hesitated a moment before sighing again. “ _Okay_.”

 

“Thank you for calling, I’ll get back to you soon.”

 

“ _Thanks, Smoaky,_ ” he replied before hanging up.

 

Felicity had to smile a little, a bit bemused to see that he’d picked up on her habit of not saying goodbye through the telephone.

 

“More problems, ‘Ama?” Nyssa questioned from where she’d taken a seat on the couch, her eyes also on Oliver’s approaching form.

 

“A local issue my friend needs some help on. Nothing relevant to the League,” Felicity told her, turning towards her office doors as they slid open to let her boyfriend walk in. “How’d it go?”

* * *

NEXT: _Painful to Watch_.

Oliver knows that some conversations can’t help but be painful no matter how hard you try…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow, I actually made my goal of updating tonight. I’m a little shocked. But at least it means you guys didn’t have to wait a whole month—or longer—for the next update, right? And even better? You may have noticed that I decided how many chapters this story is going have. I might change my mind of my muses go crazy again and decide I need more or less chapters, but for now I think I have a pretty clear outline of what’s coming next here. Meaning maybe more regular updates for a little while! :-D  
> Again I would like to thank Palomapg for the latest addictions to the Felicitas Artwork. They really are beautiful. So: thank you, thank you, thank you! :-D  
> As always, comments, ideas, suggestions et al. are appreciated. *hint hint*


	8. Hiding Heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here we have the next chapter, just in time for Thanksgiving!  
> I am going to say, not for the first or last time, that I am very, very thankful for all of you. Everyone who’s made it this far in the series with me; and especially those of you that have consistently made the effort to comment. While there are times when you manage to make me feel guilty for not updating in a timelier manner that’s a good kind of guilt when it makes me update, right? And more often than not you guys and everything you say are just the motivation I need to keep going, scene by scene, till each story’s done. So: thank you, thank you, thank you!  
> I hope everyone has had a fabulous holiday—or if it’s not a holiday for you, I hope you had a great day anyway! And, of course, enjoy the new scene! :-D

**_Chapter 8: Hiding Heartache._ **

_ Oliver's P.O.V. _

 

Oliver couldn’t think of a thing to say as he watched his girlfriend, hating every moment even as he tried to keep it from showing just like she was trying to not show her pain.

 

Not surprisingly, Felicity found her voice a lot sooner than he could, though she let out a heavy sigh before she asked her quiet question, “So he does want the necklace because of the painting?”

 

“Yeah,” Oliver confirmed reluctantly, not even trying to hide his concern. This was something they’d already sort of gone over, and he hated asking about it again, but it had to be done. “I guess the woman that owned it a couple centuries ago was pretty important in Spain. Or is pretty important, maybe, ‘cause of the history,” he shook his head. “She was some sort of martyr. Her murder got their royal family to end the witch burnings there—something like that.”

 

Should he bring up the fact that the woman in the painting looked a **hell** of a lot like her? It’d come up later if he didn’t. It was hard to decide though, as he watched Felicity try to hide how much it hurt her to work through the thoughts related to her ex.

 

The man that’d tried to hurt her—tried to _burn_ her. How could anyone want to do that? How could anyone want to hurt her at all—let alone like _that?_

 

Just watching the after-effects made Oliver want to put an arrow in something—but the bastard who was responsible was apparently already dead…

 

“The Spanish Inquisition, you mean?” Felicity asked, and she actually managed to sound almost nonchalant as she said it.

 

“Yeah, I guess the Ominous Decade was part of that?” he asked her, and wasn’t too surprised when she chuckled fondly—it was half-hearted, but definitely still fond.

 

“No, it’s the other way around,” Felicity shook her head. “The Spanish Inquisition went on for more than four centuries. The Ominous Decade was just—”

 

“The last ten years of King Ferdinand’s reign,” Oliver nodded. “Yeah, you said that before. So that was near the end of the Inquisition though?”

 

“Near it,” Felicity confirmed with another nod. “Ferdinand’s widow signed a Royal Decree abolishing the Inquisition after his death, while she was acting as their daughter’s regent.”

 

Oliver nodded his understanding, watching her all the while.

 

Felicity still wasn’t meeting his eyes even as she educated him, gently as always. She was looking at something on her computer even though her hand was barely moving the mouse. She hadn’t seemed to be working on something when he’d first come in, either. But she’d just hung up the phone, then, so there might have been something open before the phone call. Or before her cousin had come in. Even though Oliver hadn’t been gone very long and his sister had wanted to talk to Felicity, too, so he wouldn’t think she could have gotten much work done yet.

 

“The painting in the museum,” Oliver went on carefully. Somehow it was worse watching her when she wasn’t meeting his eyes. “In their national museum. It's of her. And the necklace, too—it’s in it.”

 

Felicity nodded slowly, “That makes sense,” she said softly, almost too softly for him to hear over on the couch, halfway across the room from the big desk she was hiding behind.

 

“Did your ex tell you about that?” Oliver asked her gently, and he was a little bit happier that that got her to look at him again, even if she was blinking in bewilderment—at least it’d momentarily driven the her painful memories away for a moment. “You said he gave it to you,” he reminded her. “Your ex-fiancé? And you knew it was a family heirloom, so where’d he find it?”

 

He didn’t really want to ask, but it was something the guy from Spain would bring up and it was better that he warned her about it now. And that wasn’t the only thing he should warn her about.

 

“The woman in the painting,” Oliver reluctantly made himself say. “She looks like you. A lot.”

 

Felicity nodded slowly, and then shook looked back at her computer. “I’d heard that,” she admitted, then sighed. “He—my ex—he didn’t give it to me. It was, well, sort of an early wedding present from a friend…”

 

Oliver blinked at her, still watching her carefully. He’d never wasted his time disliking a machine before, but he was starting to dislike that particular computer right now. And the desk. But he made himself stay seated on the couch, where he’d sat down as soon Nyssa had said she’d show herself out and be back shortly. Strangely, though, her head bodyguard hadn’t gone anywhere—he was still outside the office, by the elevators, right next to Diggle: the two of them trading comments and glances occasionally as they stood guard.

 

“I tried to return it,” Felicity went on softly. “After the wedding… well, after it didn’t happen.”

 

Oliver had to focus on not frowning, his mouth fighting him all the while because he hated everything about this conversation right now. It was hurting her, no matter how much she tried to hide it, and he _hated_ that.

 

“I tried to return it,” Felicity said softly again, sighing before she went on. “But they wanted me to keep it.”

 

Oliver nodded slowly. “Because it’s a family heirloom?”

 

That’d make sense, even with all the money involved here. He had to wonder why she’d said her horrible ex had given it to her before, but he wouldn’t ask now. He might later, or he might not. Right now hearing what she did want to say was more important.Even if he had to wonder

 

Felicity shrugged, still staring at her computer screen again. Still barely moving her mouse around—and he hadn’t heard it click as she selected or open something at all.

 

He watched her for several long moments, sure that her eyes weren’t actually seeing anything on the computer screen because the emotions that kept slipping past her control weren’t hard to make out on her face even when she wasn’t looking at him.

 

“Felicity?” Oliver said her name gently, waiting till her conflicted eyes met his again before he pointed out, “You don’t have to meet him if you don’t want to. I can tell him you’re not interested in selling.”

 

The Spaniard wouldn’t like it, but sometimes that was just the way things went. Even though the _Prado_ had sent someone so far to investigate the rediscovery of a supposed ‘national historical artifact,’ they’d have to accept the answer they got. Even if it was ‘no.’ Sure, they put up the picture taken for the auction as modern proof that it was still around, but they couldn’t force its current owner to sell if she wasn’t willing to.

 

Felicity sighed again, “I guess I could just donate it to the museum,” she theorized, and it couldn’t be more obvious that she was thinking out loud. And her dislike of the idea couldn’t be plainer either…

 

Oliver shook his head, “Why would you do that?” he asked her, not trying to hide his confusion. Because really, it was her necklace—no matter how much she hated the thing—and if she didn’t want to sell it, why would she donate it?

 

Felicity shook her head, “I don’t want anything to do with a historical investigation,” she tried to explain with a sigh. “They’ll want to do that. If the painting is so important to them, I mean. They’re already doing that now—that’s why this man is here.”

 

The tired helplessness in her voice just made him feel even more protective, and Oliver couldn’t stop himself frown frowning as he said firmly, “We can just tell them ‘no.’ They can’t—”

 

“These things _aren’t_ that simple, Oliver,” Felicity told him, sighing again.

 

“Why?” Oliver asked her, his brow furrowing as an unwelcome thought occurred to him. “Did he steal it?”

 

“What?” Felicity blinked at him again. “Who?”

 

“Your ex.”

 

“No,” his girlfriend answered, her voice suddenly flat as she frowned at him. “I’m not a thief. If it was stolen from somebody else, I would’ve given it back to them.”

 

“Sorry,” Oliver said quickly, “I didn’t mean—”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” she cut him off, rolling her eyes as she went on. “Besides, I just told you; it was an early wedding present to _me_. From a friend, not… not my ex. My friend died before I could offer to give it back myself, but her daughter told me to keep it.”

 

That was a lot more than she’d said a minute ago, but Oliver liked the fact that she seemed annoyed with him right now. Annoyance aimed at him was a lot better than watching her get lost in painful memories that he couldn’t do anything to help her with.

 

“I can’t…” Felicity sighed again. “I just don’t want the hassle,” she told him. “If I give them the necklace on the conditions that I not be bothered; and that it’ll be anonymous—”

 

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” Oliver insisted, shaking his head. “Felicity, that necklace could be worth millions.”

 

“I doubt it,” his girlfriend replied flatly.

 

Oliver was by no means an expert on jewelry, all he really knew about it was that it was expensive, sparkly and women liked it. But he’d seen his fair share of the really high-end type, too, and he was pretty sure that the particular necklace they were talking about would be one the level of the ones that the bank sent a guard with whenever his mother or sister decided to take them out of the vault to wear for some event or another. Those guards usually blended into the background at those parties, one more guard among many in the shadows. But their undivided attention was on the jewels, and the banks paid for that because it was worth it if it meant they didn’t have to pay the insurance on the astronomically priced items. And _that_ did mean multiple-millions in price range.

 

But it wasn’t something Oliver wanted to argue with her about either. He didn’t like her tired acceptance anymore than her pain, but if she just wanted to get the meeting over with…

 

“So you want to meet him, then?” he asked her, just to be sure.

 

Again, Felicity sighed. “No, but I will anyway.”

 

“You don’t have to—”

 

“Yes, I do,” Felicity interrupted firmly. “And I will.” She still looked tiredly accepting, but there was that familiar look of resolve there, too. Or at least the shadow of it: and for right now that was almost enough.

 

“Okay,” Oliver agreed reluctantly. “Like I said, mom invited him to join us for brunch tomorrow.”

 

“At the mansion?”

 

“Yeah. Ten o’clock. If you want. If not—”

 

“I’d love to have brunch with your family, Oliver,” Felicity told him honestly, shrugging as she added, “And the gentleman from _el Prado_ , too, I guess. What did he say his name was?”

 

“Salazar,” the archer answered evenly. “Miguel, I think, was his first name,” he added, vaguely remembering his mom making the polite introduction that was too much like many others to make much of an impression, save for the topic they were discussing. The meeting had seemed a lot more important because of that, and the painting that looked like it could be a portrait of Felicity wearing the necklace she didn’t like had added another edge to that.

 

It wasn’t _exactly_ like her, of course. He’d noticed the differences when he’d been looking at them, but at first glance…

 

“Well, I’ll look forward to seeing your mother and Thea again, and we’ll all put up with Miguel Salazar if we have to. It’ll be nice, I’m sure,” Felicity told him with a little smile. “And your mom still wants to meet for dinner at _Table Salt_ , right?”

 

“Yeah, she really likes their tuna tartar.” Oliver nodded again, then he asked her, “What about your brother? Isn’t he flying in soon?”

 

Oliver couldn’t say he was especially eager to meet his girlfriend’s big brother. As a big brother himself he was more than sympathetic to any and all protectiveness the other man might feel for his sister.

 

More than that, Felicity was just one of those special people you _wanted_ to protect. He’d known that long before he’d actually started dating her. He’d known it the first time she’d made him smile when he was hiding in the shadows at _Queen Consolidated_ , listening to the pretty girl call his picture ‘cute’ then chastise herself for talking to herself. And he’d known it many, many times since then.

 

“I have no idea,” Felicity told him, rolling her eyes in clear exasperation that was nice to see after everything else. “He already warned me he’d be here ‘soon,’ so he could show up any day now. When it’s especially inconvenient for me, probably. Sorry, in advance, if he walks in on us having sex.”

 

Oliver was chuckling at the beginning of her rant, easily able to imagine Thea directing that sort of sisterly annoyance at him. But by the end he had to stare at her for a second, before chuckling again. “I’m sure he wouldn’t—”

 

“Oh, he would,” Felicity cut him off. “He has a key to my house, so he might not knock.”

 

“He’s some sort of historian, isn’t he?” Oliver checked again.

 

“He does translations for the _Louvre_ ,” his girlfriend confirmed.

 

“And he wouldn’t be embarrassed by—”

 

“He’s lived in Paris for a while; the French are more liberal about sex. And if he can tell himself he’s interrupting our first time together he’d probably be happy about it.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “Sorry, again.”

 

“Okay, well, thanks for the warning,” Oliver told her, shaking his head again. He decided not to think about that for now—he had more than enough unasked questions about his girlfriend’s brother who might or might not be a secret agent of some kind. “Anyway, my mom said he’s welcome to come to brunch if he shows up in time. Or dinner tonight, too.”

 

“God I hope not,” Felicity sighed, then shrugged when he just looked at her questioningly. “Dinner might be okay, but not brunch. My brother doesn’t have the fondest memories of…” she paused to swallow, then made herself finish, “He doesn’t have fond memories of my ex either.”

 

Oliver nodded seriously, easily understanding that, “If there’s anything I can do…” he trailed off uncertainly, not at all sure what he even could do about all this but wanting to offer anyway.

 

Felicity gave him a little smile as she looked back at him then. “Well I hope you’re not abandoning me to two meals with your family by myself?”

 

“No, I’ll be there,” Oliver chuckled at her ironic tone. “I could invite Tommy and Laurel, too. My mom wouldn’t mind.”

 

“That might be nice,” Felicity nodded, and he was glad to see her smile had grown a little. “Tommy probably won’t be free tonight though. It’s Saturday.”

 

“Yeah, big night for the club,” he agreed, silently wondering if it ever wouldn’t be weird to think of Tommy working—for him or anywhere.

 

“And speaking of Tommy, you really should head over to _Verdant_ now.”

 

Oliver blinked, and then he reminded her, “Yeah. I’m gonna check in with him after this, remember?”

 

“I know, but he just called me a few minutes ago,” his girlfriend told him. “You two need to talk about a few things at the club.”

 

“What—”

 

“Oliver, you have to go talk to your best friend about it. Please,” his girlfriend added the last word with a little smile that managed to make him chuckle again.

 

“If you’re sure you’re alright?” Oliver pressed; and he was glad to meet her eyes when she looked back at him again. The pain and weariness was still there, but at least some of the fond amusement he was used to seeing seemed to be peaking out from behind those clouds…

 

“I’ll be fine,” his girlfriend reassured him. “I just need to double-check a few things here. I’ll be done by the time you and Digg get back.”

 

“Diggle will be staying here,” Oliver told her, hurrying on before she could argue. “Please, Felicity.”

 

His girlfriend met his eyes for a moment, then sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I guess he and Navid can drive each other nuts out there.”

 

“Thank you,” Oliver offered her with a nod.

 

“Sure,” Felicity smiled softly back. “Now go talk to Tommy.”

 

“Yes ma’am.” Oliver rounded her desk to bend down and press his lips to hers.

 

“Oh, and Oliver?” Felicity looked up at him as he stood, but at least that soft smile was still there and the painful storm in her eyes had calmed a little bit. “Go easy on Tommy, okay?”

 

“What’d you mean?” he asked, frowning a little in confusion because he couldn’t think of anything Tommy might’ve done that might merit that warning.

 

“Remember, he’s your friend, and he’s still trying to come to terms with what we do,” Felicity shook her head, still smiling. “And you have to admit, he’s done a great job managing _Verdant_ , hasn’t he?”

 

“Better than I ever could,” Oliver admitted easily, then asked, “You’re not gonna tell me—”

 

“Go talk to Tommy.”

 

Oliver nodded, bending down to kiss her forehead this time, “Yes ma’am,” he repeated as he rose. “I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

NEXT: _Changes & Doubts_.

_A lot of things have changed for Tommy, some of them very good,_

_but that doesn’t always make the not so good changes any easier to accept …._ __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There’s another one done. And we’re starting to move into the episode’s events now, too, so hopefully the scenes will keep coming relatively quickly.  
> I am going to be working a lot of hours for the holidays—retail from Black Friday through Christmas to Boxing Day can be insane, but the overtime makes for a nice paycheck, and that extra spending money is great for all the gifts, too. Even if all the Christmas music does make me wish I was deaf at least a few times a week. And I actually LIKE Christmas carols: just not the poppy garbage the stores seem to like to try use to brainwash customers into buying more… and I’m going to stop my complaints there. I may whine more in future chapters, but I didn’t have to work today and I had some nice turkey, lots of vegetables, a few pieces from different pies and some time with my family, too.  
> Lots to be thankful for, even if it is WAY too cold outside for me to start putting my Christmas lights up like I’d planned. Ah well, there’s always my next day off… I’m not sure when that is, but how ridiculously early it’s been getting dark lately will probably drive me to start the lights sooner rather than later anyway.  
> All the same, Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  
> And, as always, comments, suggestions, constructive criticism, ideas, questions et al are ALWAYS very welcome. ~ Jess


	9. Changes & Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, I’ve actually had this scene ready for about a week now, but didn’t have the ambition or mental energy to post it. And I didn’t post it a week ago because I was banging my head against my desk after I’d realized that I have to move around several of the following scenes to make them work—all for a something I really shouldn’t have missed in the first place so my head deserved the abuse. Really it did. And it’s stopped hurting, so after my first day off a week—spent doing some Christmas shopping followed up by dinner and wine—I think I’m ready to post it. At least I can’t find anything wrong with it and I’ve proof-read it at least a dozen times. So, here it is… Enjoy! ;-)

****__  


**_Chapter 9: Changes & Doubts_**.

_ Tommy Merlyn's P.O.V. _

 

Tommy nodded to himself, breathing a sigh of relief as everything balanced. If he had to admit to one specific task being his least favorite part of the job—by _far_ —it’d be the bookkeeping. But it had to be done. Everyone had to get paid: employees, suppliers, utilities and all that.

 

Money was the way the world worked; when it came to business anyway. He’d known that before his father had cut him off, he’d just let himself believe it’d never be an issue—till it was. Now he had _Verdant_ , though: the hottest nightclub in Starling City for almost a month now, and a highly successful business because of it.

 

Because of Tommy. And he liked that. He liked it a lot.

 

Everything had to keep getting done to keep it that way. So he kept making himself balance the books each week. He’d debated hiring a bookkeeper to handle it all, but it didn’t seem like a great idea.

 

Tommy knew that Oliver wouldn’t balk at the added expense.

 

He was also pretty sure his friend hadn’t read most of the reports he’d written up each week on how well the club was doing, but he could be wrong. Maybe he’d asked Felicity to keep track of that, too, because she was perusing the reports. Initially Tommy had only been sending those emails to Oliver, but after the third time a response had come from his friend’s girlfriend he’d just started sending them to her, too.

 

Oliver hadn’t said a thing about the change either, and the tech genius just seemed to always have a great answer, even when Tommy didn’t realize he was asking for one.

 

Bribing the _Transportation Department_ to switch some of their routes around so that the club got a lot more coverage when they were open had been—and still was—brilliant. If given a choice between walking several blocks or hopping on a bus at any one of a dozen stops downtown to get a ride that’d drop them off right in front of _Verdant_ , most club-goers would pick this place over Max Fuller’s or most of the other clubs downtown. Like Felicity had pointed out, most women didn’t actually want to walk far in high heels if they could avoid it, and the guys would go where the girls went.

 

All the security they had here helped, too. Sure, it was because the club was located in the Glades, but no one felt unsafe here, so business was booming. As the balanced books confirmed!

 

Hiring a bookkeeper would help a lot, but bringing in someone else to balance the books might lead to them asking questions they shouldn’t: specifically regarding the basement, and where Oliver was all the time. And those were questions Tommy didn’t ever want to hear, let alone answer, so he’d keep fighting with the bookkeeping program. Besides, _Queen Consolidated_ ’s accountants double-checked everything—and took care of the taxes—and that took a lot of the weight off his shoulders.

 

_KNOCK-Knock._

 

Tommy startled, surprised by the loud knock on his office door. He was the only one who was supposed to be here. But he didn’t mind taking a break—when it came to all the minutia of his least favorite task he _welcomed_ it, so he called towards the door, “Come in?”

 

“Mister Merlyn,” Detective Lance greeted him with his ever-present sternness as he walked into the room.

 

For a second Tommy could only stare at him in surprise, but then a horrified thought struck and took over his tongue at the same time. “Is Laurel okay?” he demanded, shooting to his feet.

 

“She’s fine,” the detective reassured him quickly, waiving the worry away from both of them and gesturing for Tommy to calm down. “This visit is about something else.”

 

Tommy had breathed a sigh of relief at that, and slowly sat back down, but his girlfriend’s father went on before he could even think of a reply.

 

“A girl got mowed down a couple blocks from here. On _Starling Bridge_. Ring any bells with you?” he asked, showing him the screen of his phone.

 

There was an image of a young woman’s broken body sprawled out on asphalt. Dead.

 

Tommy made himself look at her, though he couldn’t stop himself from wincing as he did so. “No?” he answered after a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before.”

 

A woman killed in the Glades struck a very personal chord for him, and always would, even if she hadn’t been shot like his mother… but that didn’t help him understand why the detective was here about it.

 

Yes, they had so much extra security here to help everyone feel safe enough to have fun. But once anyone walked away from _Verdant_ ’s well-watched perimeter they _were_ still in the Glades. That was why they had a big lot right next to the club for people who carpooled and valets so they didn’t have to park or get the car themselves. That was why they had a line of taxis out front from opening to closing, dropping people off and picking more up in regular intervals. And for those that were more economical the city buses came every twenty minutes till 2 A.M, and the bouncers watched the bus stop, too.

 

…But they _were_ still located in the Glades.

 

Lance nodded, putting his phone back in his coat pocket. “Well, she was in your club last night,” his tone hadn’t changed, but his words made the younger man feel defensive even before there was an evidence bag with one of _Verdant’s_ green wristbands on the desk in front of him.

 

“A lot of people were,” Tommy pointed out slowly, looking up from that evidence bagged wristband to meet the detective’s eyes.

 

Lance held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded again before he asked, “You got a problem with drugs in this club?”

 

Tommy blinked, but shook his head automatically as he answered, “Not that I’m aware of.”

 

His own time on the party scene had taught him countless times that it was _not_ hard to find drugs in a club—or at just about any party—if you wanted them and had the cash to burn on them. They certainly hadn’t done anything to encourage it here at _Verdant_ : the opposite really, especially with the extra bouncers Oliver had had Mister Diggle hire on for them fulltime after that disaster with the Huntress.

 

But Tommy hadn’t seen any cause for concern about drugs since they’d opened. The bouncers kept an eye out for any trouble—drug dealers presumably included. And the staff all checked the bathrooms regularly to make sure nothing was going on in there, too. What else could they do? He’d thought about maybe getting a dog that was trained to sniff for drugs, but the music would drive the poor thing crazy…

 

“Nothing? Oxy? D.M.T?” Detective Lance didn’t for a response before he pulled another bag out and dropped it on the desk, right on top of the one with the _Verdant_ wristband in it. “Vertigo?”

 

Tommy stared at the green-and-purple pills for a second, and then he shook his head slowly. “Like I said, not that I’m aware of,” he looked back at his girlfriend’s father with a frown. “I tried not to hire too many drug dealers.”

 

Lance stared right back at him for a long moment, before he nodded, grabbed the two bags, and put them back in one of his coat pockets, too. “Control your clientele. Before anyone else wanders into traffic,” he ordered half-heartedly, and then he turned and walked back out, shutting the office door behind him as he went.

 

Tommy stared after him—at the closed office door—for at least a whole minute. His earlier thoughts about the bookkeeping being a pain were almost a joke now; not even five minutes later.

 

_Had_ he not noticed someone selling drugs in the club? He’d done everything that made sense—and it was more than most clubs bothered with. A lot more than any of the other clubs he’d been to bothered with at all. But if someone was selling the stuff that could’ve killed Thea here, it obviously was _not_ enough.

 

His job as the club’s manager was to make sure everyone had a good time so they kept coming back, but anything more than alcohol, music and other people having a lot of fun was _not_ supposed to be a part of that. Had he been too distracted by making sure everybody was having a blast and nobody noticed the basement door or that Ollie wasn’t around half as often as most people thought he’d be?

 

Slowly Tommy picked his cell phone off the desk, and then hesitated as he looked at it. Who should he call?

 

Laurel would be on her way to work now or already there. They didn’t meet for breakfast on Saturdays because Friday and Saturday nights were the busiest for the nightclub by far. Staying to take a catnap on the couch and then getting up to make sure everything closed correctly, the books balance and the club was as ready as they could be for the next night just tended to make sense on Saturday morning if the club didn’t close till 3 or 4 A.M. At least until he found someone else he could trust to take care of everything if he wasn’t here—it wasn’t like he could ask Ollie to do it.

 

Oliver wasn’t here, but he hadn’t been out under that hood last night either. He was supposed to be at the mansion. And there’d been nothing about any emergencies that might’ve made him bail on movie night with his mom and Thea. So he shouldn’t mind the call… but this wasn’t an emergency yet.

 

Not yet.

 

Felicity had said she was working this morning anyway… so calling her just made sense.

 

And it had worked. The brilliant blonde that his friend had somehow gotten to fall for him was so calm and collected. She’d made this feel a lot less like a disaster. Yeah, she’d blindsided him when she’d brought up the bribe that he’d had to pay that creep from town hall to keep Oliver’s secret safe, but she’d then blown him away by fixing that problem, too.

 

Tommy should probably be at least a little scared of just how good the genius was with her computers, but right now he found it reassuring. He didn’t want to talk to the sleazy inspector again—anymore than he wanted to tell Ollie about the bribe—but at least it wasn’t a burden he was shouldering alone.

 

He wasn’t going to tell Oliver any of this by phone though. He was supposed to be here sometime mid-morning anyway…

 

So Tommy finished balancing the books—that now made as much sense as he could make of them once he’d realized that the amount in the petty cash expense account was a lot less than expected because it’d already been fixed. Or not really fixed—more like erased. Or wiped out of existence like it’d never happened? The more he thought about it, the more he had to admit that thinking about it too much would drive him crazy. So he made himself close the program and turn to finishing the rest of his work this morning. After checking the books he had to check everything else, make sure they were ready for their other big night of the week.

 

Sometimes he saved the lost and found for last, but tonight he looked at it first. Usually there wasn’t much there, but he liked to keep track of what anyone might be looking for. Today it was filled with women’s underwear—all silks and lace—and nothing else. They were literally the only lost items waiting to be found by the ladies that owned them. There were always some, but today that’s all there was. Meaning someone must have come back for the little pocketbook that’d been there yesterday. So there was only underwear waiting to be found.

 

It was weird.

 

All the more so when Tommy tried to imagine what it might’ve been like to notice this fact some other time—other than a little while after he’d heard about a girl who’d partied here last night getting hit by a car a few blocks away afterward. After seeing that picture of the poor girl’s broken body on the blacktop, though, his thoughts were pretty morbid.

 

Had any of these delicate items belonged to her? The young woman who’d wandered into traffic while high on the same damn drug that could’ve killed Thea a few months ago? How long ago had she wandered that way? Had it happened right after Tommy had given the okay on shutting down for the night and the bouncers had seen everyone out? That was never anyone’s favorite moment at a nightclub, but it still had to happen. But it wasn’t supposed to _kill_ anyone…

 

Tommy looked down at his phone again, shaking his head as he went back into the call history just to see how long ago it’d been that he’d talked to that beyond crooked man. It was easier to think about than all the ‘how’s’ and ‘what-ifs.’ Looking back, he knew that should have told Oliver about the inspector. Or whatever the hell his title actually was.

 

Anyone going into the basement to see all the green arrows and everything else down there was a big no-no for obvious reasons. No matter how hard it was for Tommy to understand how Oliver could do what he did while wearing that hood, Tommy still did _not_ want to see his best friend in handcuffs again.

 

But how could he tell Oliver about a crooked public servant causing problems for the nightclub, when he knew that would lead to an arrow being aimed—and maybe fired—at the man?

 

It’d just seemed so much easier to throw money at it to make the problem go away, which might say something about how he’d always lived till his father had cut him off…

 

Tommy shook his head again, and then blinked at the picture of a girl he’d never seen before smiling up at him from his phone. She was a pretty blondish-brunette with a big smile and the words ‘ ** _Can U hook me up?_** ’ underneath her image. He closed the message without bothering to reply. He probably saw a dozen girls just like her every night—hundreds on some nights. Unfortunately he couldn’t make his phone number unlisted: it was right there on _Verdant_ ’s website because he was the General Manager and some people actually _did_ need to contact him…

 

“Hey, everything okay?” Oliver’s voice suddenly came from behind him.

 

“Jeeze!” Tommy jumped, barely managing to catch his phone as it tried to fly out of his hand. “Where’d you come from?” he shook his head as he put his phone away.

 

“Sorry,” Oliver offered with a sheepish shrug that his friend would like to believe was real.

 

“Never mind, you’d think I’d be used to it by now,” Tommy told him, tucking his hands in his pockets as he turned towards him. “So Felicity told you?”

 

Oliver nodded, “She said we needed to talk about a few things?”

 

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “Yeah, apparently a girl got high last night, and got hit by a car on the bridge,” he shook his head. “She was wearing one of our wristbands.”

 

“So the police think she got high here?”

 

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed, then made himself add the worst part. “On Vertigo.”

 

Oliver’s brow furrowed with his frown, “Vertigo?”

 

 “Yeah. I told him—”

 

“Who?”

 

“Laurel’s dad, he was just here a little while ago. I told him we don’t allow drugs here,” Tommy continued, shaking his head. “But it’s not like we can have the bouncers searching everyone who wants to party.” He watched his friend for a second before he asked, “Felicity said the Count’s not in prison? He’s in a hospital?”

 

Oliver’s frown turned into a scowl. “Yeah. I used his poison against him. A lot of it. He survived, but the court said he couldn’t be tried. Wasn’t mentally competent. So they stuck him in the _Institute for Mental Health_.” He shook his head. “Looks like it’s time to see if he’s faking.”

 

Tommy realized that meant an arrow was going to be aimed at someone again. But Vertigo had made Thea crash her car, and had almost put her in prison. Now another poor girl was dead because of it. It _was_ a poison, and he couldn’t say the man that made it didn’t deserve the dose he’d gotten himself, especially if he was now selling it again!

 

“What about everything else?” Oliver’s asked, indicating the closed club around them. “How we doing?”

 

“We’re in the black,” Tommy’s smile wasn’t as big as it would’ve been before he saw the picture of the woman who’d died a few blocks away, but he still felt a thrill at being able to report just how successful the club was proving to be. “And in the green,” he added, before he remembered what Felicity had said a little while ago. “And, uh, speaking of green—shouldn’t we switch up the club’s coloring a little bit?”

 

Oliver blinked at him, but then he realized what he was referring to, “Felicity complained?” he asked with a little half grin that reminded his friend when they used to go looking for trouble even though they’d probably get caught.

 

“She’s got a point, man,” Tommy pointed out with a shrug. “I mean, you ask anyone in the city what the color green makes them think of these days…” he trailed off, thinking that the only other thing that might come to mind was those poisonous pills that were half-green and half-purple, but that wasn’t something they should want the club to make anyone think of either.

 

“It’s not gonna be _Verdant_ ,” Oliver nodded, then shrugged. “But I was accused—and arrested—for being the Hood. So it kind of works, don’t you think?”

 

Tommy blinked at him, “Please tell me you didn’t try that argument on your girlfriend,” he almost pleased, silently wondering how he’d ever been a wingman to this man.

 

To think they’d both had game at one point… should that feel like a long time ago now?

 

“Just thought of it, actually,” Oliver admitted with a shrug, but his shoulders didn’t roll with the motion as easily as they used to. Maybe because they were so much harder and bigger from shooting all those arrows. Or maybe he’d just grown up. Maybe they both had…

 

“Might not want to repeat it again,” Tommy told him, shaking his head. He held his hands up in a momentary gesture of surrender as he went on. “Don’t get me wrong, man; the peeing on the cop thing was _awesome_ when we were in college. But you probably shouldn’t try to piss the _S.C.P.D_ off. It’s not that hard.”

 

“I didn’t,” Oliver shrugged. “But it’s an excuse that works if it does come up.”

 

Tommy raised an eyebrow at him, “You gonna tell Felicity that?” he asked, with no attempt to hide his skepticism in every single word.

 

Oliver rolled his eyes, “No,” he shook his head again. “I’m not sure what she wants me to do. We just opened, it’s not like—”

 

“We can still change some of the decorations,” Tommy cut in, shrugging when his friend frowned. “Do you really care that much about everything being green up here?”

 

“Everything’s not green,” Oliver grumbled, gesturing towards the club as a whole. “All the furniture’s white. The floor’s black.”

 

“Black, white and everywhere else green,” Tommy shook his head. “And you don’t see why that might be a bad thing?”

 

“Those lights are purple when they’re on,” Oliver pointed towards base lighting by the bar. “Aren’t they?”

 

“Yeah. And there are few blue ones by the bar, too. And the ‘exit’ signs are red. So what?” Tommy rolled his eyes. “Two-thirds of all the lights are green. Maybe more than that.”

 

“Fine. Do whatever you want,” Oliver agreed, then asked, “She said we had to talk about ‘some things?’ Was that it?”

 

“Uh, no. Not really,” Tommy winced, “I should’ve mentioned it a while ago,” he put a hand behind his head, squeezing the back of his neck for a second with a wince as he forced the tension out before dropping his hand and forcing himself to continue. “We had to get inspected before we opened.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Everything,” Tommy threw his hands wide to indicate the club at large. “Fire safety, for one. We did burn down not very long ago.”

 

“Yeah. And?”

 

“Everything like that,” Tommy told him, shaking his head again. “The city had to sign off on everything before we could open.”

 

Oliver frowned, “And didn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” Tommy answered immediately, and then just as quickly winced. “Sort of?”

 

“Either they did or they didn’t, Tommy,” Oliver shook his head. “Which is it? What’s the problem?”

 

Tommy winced again, and then sighed as he admitted, “I couldn’t let the inspector see the basement.”

 

Oliver blinked, then closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a groan. He stayed like that as he asked, “Why didn’t you just tell me? We could’ve—”

 

“What? Just hidden all the arrows?” Tommy demanded, spreading his hands again when his friend looked back at him with a scowl. “Then we’d be on record as _having_ a basement, which I didn’t think you wanted.”

 

“You should’ve—Wait,” Oliver paused, his frown turning confused. “You didn’t know about that before the club opened.”

 

Damn, he thought he’d gotten that by him…

 

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “I was supposed to get everything inspected before the opening. I had the guys from Engine Company 7 back over here, Fire Chief Raynes signed off on everything up here. I just never went downstairs back then, so I… kind of forgot it was there?”

 

Oliver sighed again, “Well, I did kind of want you to do that,” he admitted, before asking, “So what happened?”

 

“One of the city inspectors came to me ‘bout a month after we opened. Right after—”

 

“After you found out,” Oliver sighed. “So, what? You didn’t want me to know ‘cause you thought I’d kill him?”

 

“…Kind of?” Tommy admitted uncertainly, and then he shook his head. “I just didn’t wanta deal with it then, and the club was doing great so I just…” he waived his hand with a grimace.

 

“You threw money at it,” his friend nodded, seeming to understand. “That’s what we always used to do.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy admitted with a sigh, more than a little relieved to see that understanding look in his friend’s eyes. It made it seem like he was still talking to his best friend—even if the man had somehow become someone who shot arrows to kill people sometimes. “I should’ve at least told you about it.”

 

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Oliver agreed, then surprised him by offering a little smile, “But I can’t really complain too much about that, huh?”

 

“I guess not…” Tommy blinked, but then nodded with a grateful little laugh. “Thanks.”

 

Oliver nodded, then he frowned again. “But what’s the problem? Does the guy want more money?”

 

“No. No, that I would’ve told you about. Probably,” Tommy admitted, shaking his head again. “Felicity said she has her computers keeping track of everything? Including the club’s books?”

 

“And she noticed the money you took out for the bribe,” Oliver nodded. “Sounds about right.”

 

“And she fixed it, too,” Tommy told him, pointing his thumb back towards the office. “I just checked. After I talked to her. The withdrawal I’d marked as petty cash isn’t there anymore, and the account has the missing ten-thousand back in it somehow. I went online with the bank, and their records have changed, too.”

 

Oliver snorted, “Don’t ever doubt what Felicity can do with computers. I’m pretty sure she could take over the city with her tablet if she wanted to. Maybe just her phone.”

 

“…Okay,” Tommy nodded. “But where’d she get the money from? I mean, it has to show up somewhere, right?”

 

The vigilante shook his head. “If she says it’s handled, I doubt it. Maybe she just moved it from my trust fund,” he shrugged. “The accountants wouldn’t question another transfer to _Verdant_ ’s accounts.”

 

A sudden surge of jealousy stirred up Tommy’s gut as he remembered when ten-thousand dollars didn’t mean anything to him either. He bit his tongue for a few seconds to keep himself from saying anything stupid; and just made himself listen as his friend went on.

 

“Or obviously she can hack into the bank systems themselves,” Oliver said, sounding thoughtful. “If she can get into the actual programming she can probably just change what it says, too.” He winced at the thought as he finished, and Tommy did, too, both of them realizing the same thing then.

 

“Yeah, she probably shouldn’t do that too often,” Tommy said, still wincing. “Sounds like the sort of thing that might bring the _F.B.I_ here looking for her.”

 

“Yeah, it might,” Oliver agreed with another sigh, before he shook his head again. “You still haven’t said what the problem actually is. Has Felicity fixed everything?” he asked, sounding like he’d be more than willing to accept that answer if it was, even though it meant his girlfriend had made him look into this for almost no reason.

 

Tommy wished he could confirm that, but he made himself admit, “Not quite. I still need to get the certificate from him. Or license. I’m not sure what it’s called, one or the other.”

 

Oliver blinked, then he slowly asked; “You didn’t get it when you paid him ten-grand?”

 

“Nope. He said it had to go through all the city bureaucracy even after he’d signed it and then it’d come in the mail.” Tommy said, wincing yet again as he finished.

 

“And that was?”

 

Tommy sighed, still wincing as he admitted, “More than a month ago now.”

 

Oliver grimaced, then asked, “What’s his name?”

 

“What?” Tommy frowned at his friend, not liking how flatly he’d asked the question.

 

“The inspector. What’s his name?”

 

Tommy kept frowning for a moment, then asked him, “Why?”

 

“I can’t get it from him if I don’t know who he is,” Oliver replied in that same flat tone.

 

Tommy didn’t like where he thought this was going, so he shook his head. “You can’t go after him as—”

 

“I know I can’t get it as the Arrow,” Oliver cut in, shaking his head. “I won’t need to.”

 

“How’re you going to get it without arrows?” Tommy wanted to know.

 

Oliver held his eyes for a moment, then he shrugged in the same way he always would when he was making himself answer a question he didn’t want to. “I know some people that the inspector won’t want to upset.”

 

“I wouldn’t think he’d want to upset a Queen or Merlyn,” Tommy muttered. That familiar shrug still made him want to trust his friend a lot more than that emotionless tone of a minute ago. But he still shook his head. “You can’t sue him—”

 

“I’m not going to sue him. I’m not going to kill him. I’m not even going to meet him,” Oliver cut in firmly, then demanded. “Tommy, what’s his name?”

 

Tommy hesitated another moment, meeting his friend’s eyes all the while, then he sighed and admitted defeat. “Messner. Eric, I think. He’s with the _Zoning_ _Commission_. Out of City Hall.”

 

“Thank you,” Oliver nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Tommy watched him as he turned to go, waiting till he was halfway across the floor to the back before he called, “And what do you want me to do?”

 

His friend stopped and turned back to him with a soft smile that looked honest. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Managing _Verdant_ better than I ever could,” he gestured towards the bar as he said it, and then paused to blink at the box his friend had been looking through. “Is that… women’s underwear?”

 

Despite how morbid his thoughts had become on the same subject not that long ago, Tommy found himself laughing at his friend’s change in tone: completely understanding the mix of bewilderment and bemusement. “In the lost and found, yeah. There’s a whole bunch of it. Nothing else.”

 

Oliver snorted, grinning back at him. “Not sure what we’re supposed to do with that.”

 

Tommy shrugged, the response coming automatically after that snort and grin. “See if anyone comes to claim it?”

 

They both laughed, shaking their heads at the same time.

 

“You know, we would’ve had a blast with that,” Tommy said with a chuckle. “Before, I mean.”

 

Before Laurel—at least for him. And, it seemed, Felicity for Oliver…

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Oliver snorted. “No. You are right,” he shook his head. “You probably would’ve turned it into some sort of Cinderella thing.”

 

“You think anyone would’ve actually gone for that?” Tommy asked, then snorted again as his friend just looked at him. “You’re right. There’d be a line if we’d played it right.”

 

“We would have.”

 

“Oh, no doubt,” Tommy readily agreed, surprisingly happy just to have this tone of talking back. Playful, carefree and looking for fun.

 

There were definite perks to being responsible—the women they were in love with were the major ones. But that didn’t mean Tommy didn’t miss the good old days when he didn’t have to be responsible, at least a little bit, and it was good to see that his friend did, too.

 

“Still,” Oliver shook his head, looking around at the club with a smile of satisfaction. “I like how we’ve gone from throwing money at clubs to catching it.”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” Tommy replied, meeting his friend’s eyes for another moment before he waived back to the bar. “I’ve still gotta check to make sure everything’s ready for tonight.”

 

That was mostly what he did, aside from smiling and solving problems when the club was opening. Managing was mostly double-checking everything to make sure they had everything they needed for the night. The bar had to have all its liquor in stock. The kitchen had to have everything to serve all their overpriced appetizers if they were ordered. Everything had to be neat and clean, from the bar and dance floor to the bathrooms…

 

Oliver blinked at him. “Aren’t the bartenders supposed to do that?”

 

“Yeah, they are, but it never hurts to double-check. Redundancy, my dad calls it,” Tommy was wincing again before he’d even finished. “And I can’t believe my dad is my go-to for that.”

 

“He’s a good businessman,” his friend offered.

 

“Yeah, and an asshole.”

 

That sniper’s poison-laced bullet had forced Tommy to recognize the fact that he wasn’t ready to lose his father and probably never would be. But that didn’t mean their relationship had improved much. Sure, his dad was almost nice when he was high on painkillers and stuck in a hospital bed, but he hadn’t stayed there long. And once he was back on his feet he hadn’t had any more time for his son then he ever had.

 

Finding out about Oliver had been a lot harder though. Finding out he didn’t really know who his best friend was had hurt. And that Oliver had planned to never tell him had hurt even more. But he shouldn’t dwell on that. Like Felicity had said; it didn’t and wouldn’t help. And he didn’t want to lose the man who was like a brother to him.

 

“That, too,” Oliver agreed easily, nodding to him again as his friend looked back at him. “Well, if that’s it, I’d better go. Gotta make sure Felicity doesn’t work all day.”

 

Tommy snorted, “Yeah, good luck with that.”

 

At least they were making progress.

 

He couldn’t ask for more than that.

 

From Oliver or himself.

* * *

NEXT: _Life in the Glades_.

_Thea and Roy come from two very different worlds within the same city: something he’s reminded her of too many times for her to ever forget it. But somehow they work even when their merged world doesn’t…._

__

_A/N: The first pic fits better, but I couldn't resist that GIF... LOL._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So those conversations happened. Tommy’s not in the easiest place right now, but he’s handling it pretty well. And hopefully Felicity’s helped Oliver—and Tommy—enough that he won’t have to follow the canon path at the end of this episode. Because if my muses start to drag me that way I’ll probably have to stage a very elaborate rebellion…  
> Like I said in my note at the start, I’m rearranging a bunch of the scenes after this to make them work together. Because the alternative was cutting half of a scene that I like and I don’t want to do that. I’d much prefer to work some more on the story, and I think you guys will prefer the results, too. BUT the next scene should be fine. It’s in the semi-final stages of editing and doesn’t need to be moved. My muse went off on a tangent I’d told it not to during the latest revision, which is another reason I have to revise some of the scenes after it too, but hopefully it’ll be ready sooner rather than later. Ideally well before Christmas, but I’ll only promise to try for the day itself because that’s only two weeks away and in those two weeks I only have two days off ahead of the holiday itself. And in addition to more shopping, wrapping, etc. I’m going to put together a little party the weekend before—and no, it’s not going to be on one of my few days off—so I can’t promise anything earlier. Sorry. But a present the day of will still be nice, right?  
> Also, as some of you have asked that I try to update my other crossover for Christmas, too, I’m happy to report that it may—I repeat: MAY—be possible. The scene seems to be coming along. So I am trying.  
> Presents help. I accept gleefully cookies and candy—especially since a holiday cookie plate has recently reassured me that calories don’t count during the holidays—but comments are a great present, too. Probably a better one than the sweets since my scale will tell me the cookie plate was lying sooner or later, but until then I’ll live in a very sweet world of denial...  
> Oh, and if you could recommend your favorite Christmas cookie in the comments I’d appreciate it, too. I usually bake a bunch of cookies for gift baskets and I’d like to add some new ones this year.  
> Until next time, thanks for reading! ~ Jess


	10. Life in the Glades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, once again I’m apologizing. I don’t really have a good excuse. This chapter should have been ready last month, at least, but I’m afraid I couldn’t motivate myself through the editing process. But, here it is at last. Hope it was worth the wait… Enjoy?

**_Chapter 10: Life in the Glades_ ** _._

__

_ Thea Queen's P.O.V. _

 

Thea was smiling happily to herself as the cab rolled to a stop.

 

“Are you sure you want to go here, miss?” the old man who’d driven her here asked, looking back at her worriedly. “This is the Glades…” he trailed off uncertainly, probably because he’d already pointed that out twice before: once when she’d told him the address and again when they’d crossed into the infamous area itself.

 

“Yeah, I know it is,” Thea told him again, still too pleased with her successful shopping trip to be too bothered by the nosy old man.

 

The old man was still looking more than a little worried as he tried to glance at her and keep glancing around, too.

 

Being the cause of his worry made her feel a little bit bad, but this was still better than the alternative. Obviously she’d learned her lesson on not walking alone in the Glades. Driving herself anywhere wasn’t possible for several more months—thanks to her license being suspended as part of the plea agreement. And calling any one of the drivers that her mom kept on staff at the mansion wouldn’t work either. Sure, they’d be perfectly polite and probably wouldn’t ask any questions, either, but they’d then report everywhere she went and everything she did to her mother.

 

Just a few months back it hadn’t mattered. Back then she’d just wanted to go out partying to pretend she didn’t care about anything in the world. It was a tragically easy lifestyle to fall into—though the alcohol and drugs were definitely a must to maintain it for her—but it meant that you didn’t have anything or anyone to care about, and like Felicity had hinted that was very, very lonely…

 

Thea didn’t want to be like that anymore, and the old guy just seemed so worried for her that the youngest Queen really didn’t have the heart to snap at him. Plus she was still in a good mood from her shopping spree. So she just smiled at him as she pulled a bunch of bills out of her purse—the cash she’d specifically withdrawn for cab money because she used her credit cards for most everything but the accountants turned her in to her mother if she called a cab instead of one of the drivers, so cash was just easier. “I know, stop worrying. This is my boyfriend’s place. Here,” she pressed the bills into his reluctant, wrinkled hand. “Keep the change.”

 

“Thank you, miss,” the old guy nodded gratefully after he glanced at the money to confirm it was way more than the fare.

 

He was just so sweet, he deserved it. Besides, it was kind of sad that someone his age was still struggling to make a living—he _had_ to be old enough to be her grandfather, at least. But then again, maybe he was still working just to help put his grandkids through school or something like that. Either way, he deserved the big tip: and Thea had thrown away a lot more money for worse things. As all of Starling City knew.

 

“I will wait for you?” he offered hopefully.

 

Thea hesitated, because this _was_ the Glades, and she _had_ almost been attacked just a few blocks from here not too long ago. Sure, it’d led to her first kiss with Roy, but it still wasn’t an experience any sane person would want to repeat. So she nodded, “Yeah, I guess. Thanks. Just till I’m sure he’s home, okay?”

 

“Okay, Miss Queen.”

 

Thea made herself smile, even though she hadn’t given the nice old guy her name. She’d been in the tabloids so much even before the Vertigo disaster that she was always going to be recognized in Starling City. “Thanks,” she said again, getting out and walking towards the front door of the little building that Roy Harper called his home.

 

_Knock-Knock-Knock_.

 

“Just a minute,” Roy’s called from inside, though it was only a few seconds later that he opened the door wearing his customary red hoodie. Except the hood was up, which wasn’t his norm at all. Not when he was home. Then he met her eyes and she saw why—his hoodie couldn’t hide all the bruises. “Hey, Thea,” he greeted her tiredly.

 

“Roy?” Thea blinked at him, but her shock swiftly gave way to horror. “Oh my god, what happened to you?”

 

“Nothing,” Roy tried to tell her. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

 

“No you’re not,” she shook her head. “Look at you. Who—”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Roy shook his head. “You should get back in the cab. Go home. It isn’t safe here in the Glades. You know that.”

 

Thea ignored his ridiculous warning to shove her way inside, and like always he let her. She dropped her shopping bags just inside the door, so that she could cross her arms and frown at him while she demanded again, “ _What_ happened to you?”

 

Roy sighed, but he reluctantly closed the front door and then turned back to her, tucking his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Just upset a few people, happens sometimes.”

 

“It ‘happens’ sometimes?” Thea repeated incredulously, then shook her head. “No it _doesn’t!_ Who did this?”

 

“No one you’d know,” her boyfriend sighed, his hands coming out of his pickets to catch hers, tugging a little to make her uncross her arms and then squeezing gently. “I told you I owe some people,” he explained gently. “I was supposed to help at that liquor store and I didn’t.”

 

Thea’s eyes widened. “You were kidnapped! You were almost _killed!_ ”

 

“Yeah, and the Vigilante saved me,” Roy nodded, then shrugged. “Turns out he’s not so popular with the people I owe. And they saw the video along with everyone else.”

 

Thea scowled, “They did this because some psycho tried to kill you in front of the whole city and the Vigilante saved you?”

 

“Something like that,” Roy admitting, shrugging again. “They said it was ‘cause I didn’t make the store and they had to call it off. That’s why I owe ‘em more now, but I think it had more to do with all the trouble the Vigilante’s been causing them.”

 

“That’s not your fault!” Thea protested, still scowling.

 

“Didn’t say it was,” Roy shrugged yet again. “It just is what it is.”

 

“You have to move,” Thea decided, making her boyfriend blink at her.

 

“And where am I supposed to go?” Roy scoffed and spread his hands to indicate the little house around them. “Hate to tell you, princess, but this place won’t sell for enough to live outside the Glades—and that’s if it sells for anything.”

 

“I can help you get an apartment somewhere safer—”

 

“I don’t take charity, Thea,” he snapped.

 

“Call it a no-interest loan then!” she snapped back at him. “You can pay me back. You have a job now.”

 

“Yeah, and that’s still in the Glades,” Roy shook his head. “Running away’s not the answer. They’d find me.”

 

Thea stared at him a moment, trying to keep down the desperate feelings rolling in her gut, she swallowed, then asked, “Well what would it take then?”

 

Her boyfriend blinked at her, then his brow furrowed as he asked, “What?”

 

“You said this is because you owe them—whoever the hell ‘they’ are,” Thea shook her head. “So how much money would it take to make them leave you alone?”

 

“It’s not that simple. And I don’t want—”

 

“It’s not charity!” Thea interrupted again, now scowling fiercely. “I told you, call it a loan!”

 

“A loan I can never repay,” Roy rolled his eyes, shaking his head again. “But that’s not what I was gonna say. I don’t want _you_ anywhere _near_ them.”

 

Thea blinked up at him. “I wouldn’t be.”

 

“Yeah, you would. They’d want to know where the money came from, and I’d tell ‘em to mind their own business, but this _is_ their business, Thea. This is what the gangs around here do. And people have seen us together. They’d figure it out.”

 

“I don’t care,” Thea immediately told him.

 

“Yeah, well I do,” Roy insisted with a sigh, squeezing her hands again. “I care about you, Thea. And you—”

 

“And I care about you!” she tried to tell him.

 

“You deserve better than me,” he insisted like she hadn’t said anything.

 

“No, I don’t,” Thea shook her head again. “But if you think I deserve better, than _be_ better. Let me help you!”

 

Roy’s face twisted sadly for a second, then he shook his head again. “It’s not that simple.”

 

“It can be.” Thea insisted. “We can make it that simple.”

 

Roy tore his eyes away from hers with a sigh. “The gangs around here aren’t afraid of much, Thea. Even the cops avoid the Glades as much as they can. If they have to come in they do it in force. It’s been that way for years. ‘Cept now they patrol by your brother’s club, but that’s about it.” He shook his head. “And sure, they’re afraid of the Vigilante, but he doesn’t really go after them unless he needs to hit the low-level thugs to find someone else—like Vanch or the mob.”

 

“I don’t care who they’re afraid of,” Thea shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she tried to tell him, staring into his eyes as he looked back at her for a long moment.

 

There was that look in his eyes that made it all too clear that he still thought she lived in a gilded cage and couldn’t completely see what was outside of it. It was a look she wanted to argue with: except there were times she knew he wasn’t wrong. Like the time he’d saved her not far from here…

 

“But it _does_ matter, Thea. Fear’s what keeps them in line, not money.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Other than the Vigilante, ‘bout the only ones their afraid of are the mob bosses. Vanch’s gone, and so’s Bertinelli. The Triad’s retreated to China Town.” He shook his head. “It’s mostly the Russian’s running the Glades these days. That’s why Brick’s bent on making sure what’s left of the Bertinelli—”

 

“Brick?” Thea interrupted. “Who’s Brick?”

 

“No one.” Roy scowled, turning away as he said. “You should go. I’ll call you another cab.”

 

Thea immediately shook her head again, “I’m not going anywhere,” she told him, deliberately turning and walking over to the wreck of a couch they’d made out on dozens of times, looking back at him as she sat down.

 

Roy just stared at her again for another handful of seconds, and then he sighed again and gave into her silent plea, walking over to drop down onto the spot next to her. The shadows from his still raised hood couldn’t completely hide his grimace anymore than the bruises.

 

Thea winced even as she was reaching towards him. “Let me see,” she insisted a little hesitantly, waiting for his reluctant nod before she pushed the hood back. She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from gasping at the sight.

 

The black eye she’d already seen, along with the busted lip. That massive bruise across his perfect jaw, though, was a painful sight.

 

“Looks a lot worse than it is,” Roy’s mumble was a mix of gentle concern for her and some shame for himself, but he managed to hide the latter as he went on. “I’ll put some more ice on it tonight. And tomorrow, probably. By next week, though, it won’t even hurt that much,” he shook his head again. “But I won’t be much to look at for a bit longer than that.”

 

“Did you see a doctor?” Thea asked him, despite already knowing what his answer would be. She’d had to drag him to _Starling General_ when he’d gotten cut while saving her, so she didn’t imagine he’d voluntarily visit the hospital when he wasn’t even bleeding.

 

“Nah, it’s just bruises,” Roy replied as expected.

 

“Where else?” she demanded.

 

The older teen looked back at her for a long moment, but then he sighed again. “They got a few good kicks at my gut, so bruised ribs, too.”

 

That was why he’d winced while he was sitting down.

 

Thea nodded slowly, thinking it over for only a second before she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pressed the right speed dial before she put the device up to her ear.

 

_Ring…_

 

“What are you doing?” Roy asked her suspiciously, but she ignored him as the call was answered right after the first ring.

 

“ _Good morning, and thank you for calling Queen Mansion. How may I help you?_ ”

 

“Raisa, hi, it’s Thea. I need you to make up one of our guest rooms for a friend of mine. He’s coming over tonight.”

 

“Whoa, wait a minute…” Roy started to object, but he trailed off when she scowled at him again.

 

“ _Of course, Miss Thea,_ ” the longtime housekeeper was replying easily at the same time. “ _The rose room is ready. Shall I expect you for lunch?_ ”

 

The rose room was closer to Ollie’s than her own, but it was still one of the guest rooms that were at least near the family wing, so she nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. We’ll be there soon.”

 

“ _Shall I send a car, Miss Thea?_ ”

 

“Just a minute,” she replied, getting up to walk over to the front window, peeking out through the part in the blinds before she went on. “Nope. That won’t be necessary, Raisa, but thanks.”

 

“ _Of course, Miss Thea._ ”

 

“We’ll see you soon, Raisa. Bye,” Thea answered, knowing she had to be the one to end the call because the housekeeper who’d once been her nanny never would.

 

“ _Goodbye, Miss Thea._ ”

 

Thea nodded as she hung up the phone and turned to look back at her boyfriend again, and unsurprisingly he immediately started protesting.

 

“Thea, I’m not—”

 

“Do you want to go to the hospital instead?” Thea cut in, frowning right back at him.

 

Roy blinked at her. “No. I don’t need—”

 

“You don’t know that, not really,” she interrupted again, shaking her head. “And I don’t know anything about first aid. But Raisa does.”

 

“Good for her. But I don’t—”

 

“ _Please_ , Roy?” Thea cut him off again, this time with honest pleading that had him blinking at her again. “Please, let Raisa check. Just to be sure. Then we can have lunch.”

 

“And then you’ll lock me up in your mansion?”

 

“Then you’ll stay a few days, just till we sort everything out,” Thea told him, somehow managing to sound a lot more sure of being able to do that then she really felt. And there was still a lot more pleading in her voice than she’d like to admit either.

 

But she’d never liked him living here: not far from where she was attacked. Even closer to where that psycho had grabbed him, since that’d been right outside. Now there were people beating him up because that so-called ‘Savior’ hadn’t killed him?

 

No. It wasn’t right. And she had to do _something_ about it.

 

She had to help him, whether he liked it or not.

 

Roy sighed, sounding very tired, “Thea…”

 

She couldn’t let herself give into how tired and hopeless he looked. She was done with giving in and giving up. It wouldn’t help either of them.

 

And like Felicity had said: it was her life and her choices to make… or something like that. That was the sentiment at least. She’d been so lost in the older woman’s adamant ideas that she’d missed some of the actual words even though the message had mostly gotten through.

 

“Or do you just want me to start wandering around the Glades looking for these nut-jobs?” Thea asked him sarcastically. “Didn’t go so well for me last time I walked down the wrong alley, but if that’s all I can do…” she trailed off with a shrug.

 

“You’re nuts,” Roy told her, and he was staring at her again, and maybe he wasn’t seeing the gilded cage anymore, just the crazy songbird inside of it. Though he’d be back to seeing all that gilding soon enough.

 

“Sometimes,” Thea agreed, before she shook her head another time. “Please, Roy. I care about you. And I can’t lose someone I care about again. I _can’t_.”

 

Their eyes locked for a long time then, though she couldn’t even guess how long.

 

Finally Roy gave in again with another sigh. “Alright, for a few days” he agreed reluctantly, going on with a grimace. “And I guess it won’t hurt to let Raina look.”

 

“Raisa,” Thea corrected, not even trying to hide her relief at his agreement. “Thank you.”

 

“Yeah,” Roy sighed again. “I’m gonna have to come back to the club tomorrow night anyway. I’m working.”

 

“You’d better grab your work clothes then,” she shrugged, hoping her response came off as somewhere between nonchalant and practical after all her worry and pleading.

 

That worry hadn’t faded, of course, but there was something exhausting about expressing such genuine emotions, despite—or maybe because of—the genuine feelings behind them. More than all that, though, if Roy was going to be her official guest at the mansion he’d _have_ to come to dinner with them tonight. The dress shirt and slacks that Tommy had chosen as the standard for all of _Verdant_ ’s serving staff would fit in at _Table Salt_ a lot better than the customary red hoodie she’d been both relieved and amused to find he had more than one of in his regular wardrobe.

 

“I’ll let the cab driver know we’ll be out in a few minutes,” Thea told him, hoping to hurry him along before he came up with anymore objections.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Roy reluctantly agreed, also getting up to head for his bedroom, still moving a lot slower than he normally would.

 

Thea frowned after him, but he’d agreed to let Raisa take a look at his injuries when they got to the mansion.

 

The housekeeper had been her nanny, and Oliver’s before her, because she’d always been an amazing caretaker. Not just with the bumps and bruises the Queen kids occasionally got, but with a bunch of worse injuries, too.

 

When Thea had fallen from her horse years ago it’d only been because of Raisa’s nursing qualifications that her parents had even considered bringing her home from the hospital as soon as they had. And Raisa had been amazing. No matter how bitchy the pre-teen had gotten about all the normal things she wasn’t allowed to do while she was healing or how much everything had hurt…

 

Thea had also watched the housekeeper look after different members of the mansion staff when they were injured. Raisa never hesitated to call for an ambulance if it was needed, or Doctor Lamb for house calls. She’d make sure Roy was alright…

 

So Thea forced her frown away with a sigh and headed out the door, grabbing her shopping bags as she went because there was no point in leaving them here if Roy was coming home with her. She gave the old man a little smile when he jumped out of his car to help her as soon as he saw her walking back.

 

“Is everything okay, Miss?”

 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Thea immediately reassured him. “We’ve just had a change of plans, so thanks for waiting.”

 

“You’re very welcome, miss, very welcome. Let me help you,” he insisted as he rounded the front of the taxi.

 

Thea let him take the bags and watched while he put them in the trunk. “My boyfriend’s just grabbing a few things. He should be ready to go soon.”

 

“Of course, miss. Take your time.”

 

Apparently her huge tip had gone a long way to ease his worries—though he was still looking around a lot like he thought someone might jump out of the shadows if he didn’t watch them carefully enough. Then again, she really couldn’t blame him here…

 

“Thanks,” Thea replied, before heading back into the house, shaking her head a little as she saw the blinds in the bedroom window shift just a bit. It didn’t surprise her. Roy always insisted on looking after her, especially in the Glades. He’d saved her not far from here only weeks ago, and more recently than that they’d both been attacked right here by that psycho that’d wanted to kill him on camera just because he’d snatched a few purses and the police hadn’t thrown him in jail for it…

 

Roy was already coming out of his bedroom by the time she was back inside, a backpack over one shoulder.

 

“All set?” Thea asked him.

 

Roy nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go, I guess.”

 

Thea nodded back, turning to lead the way out, “I was wrong,” she called to the little old man as he looked up at her return with Roy behind her once he’d locked the door. “He’s already ready.”

 

The old man just smiled pleasantly back at her, “Good, good,” he nodded as he opened the taxi’s rear doors again, waiving them inside.

 

Thea obligingly climbed in, trying not to frown as she watched Roy walk around to the other side with the driver hurrying after him once he’d shut her door. That the wobbly old man could keep up with her boyfriend was just more proof that the bruises he was hiding under that hoodie were probably pretty bad. But Raisa would take care of that.

 

What her old nanny wouldn’t be able to help with was the fact that Thea knew Felicity was right. Roy was going to hate _Table Salt_ ; he would even without having to meet her mom and brother there. But she couldn’t leave him here and if she took him home there was no way around him meeting at least her mother. Raisa probably wasn’t going to call an ambulance or the doctor, since Roy was walking around even with all the grimaces, so he’d be able to go to dinner once Tommy said it was okay. She’d be tempted to tell them her boyfriend and house guest had to work, but even she knew _Verdant_ had more than enough busy people every night to spare a few.

 

“Thanks,” Roy said to the driver, grimacing again as he sat down on the other side of the car while the old man closed the door behind him.

 

Thea almost asked him if he was okay but caught herself just before the stupid question could come out. Instead she sighed and turned to look out the window as the driver backed up and turned back towards the way they’d come from: the fastest route out of the Glades. “You know the way to Queen Mansion?” she asked the old man, because she hadn’t told him where they were going even though he’d probably figured it out.

 

“I do, Miss Queen,” the driver confirmed with a gentle grin aimed at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

 

Thinking back she shouldn’t have been surprised earlier. She’d spotted that look of recognition when the old guy had hopped out of the cab to open the door for her. He was quick about it. Nice and polite even though he hadn’t liked dropping her off in the Glades. And his knowing who she was probably had a lot to do with why he’d still been waiting around for her instead of hightailing it out of Starling City’s high-crime area. That and the good tip she’d already given him…

 

Roy snorted, “Most everybody knows where you live.”

 

Thea rolled her eyes but didn’t argue the point. He was hurt. And she was worried. All things considered it wasn’t a good combination, but she could handle it. She wasn’t high or drunk. He wasn’t stealing anything or trying to hide a gun from her. Everything else they could handle.

 

Hopefully with just a little help…

* * *

NEXT: _Lots of Crazy_.

_Oliver knew he had to check, no matter how little he likes the results…._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, there we have it.  
> I don’t know why this took so long. I don’t particularly dislike the chapter. I’d essentially had it planned out from the moment I decided Starling City was going to see—or at least hear—the Vigilante’s confrontation with the Arrow. That was a change I’d wanted for a while, and this result makes sense to me. Plus with Roy saying he owed people money and had to be involved in criminal activities because of it, this just all fell together very well in my head. I could probably have made up someone other than Brick, but he’s around now anyway—as far as we know he’d been involved with some of the bloodier Starling City gangs from the night he murdered Tommy’s mother. So I couldn’t resist.  
> Anyway, I hope that makes sense. And again, I’m so sorry for the long wait.
> 
> To those of you that are also reading Wings of that Butterfly Called Chaos: I’m even sorrier. I HAVE been trying to finish the next chapter, it just hasn’t completely cooperated yet. I am getting closer, but I won’t hazard a guess as to when it’ll be ready.
> 
> Thoughts, comments, suggestions, et al. are always welcome. Especially for both these fan fics now, because I haven’t been reading Arrow fan fiction for a while now so it’s harder to motivate myself sometimes here even though I still love the Felicitas-verse and think the Jurassic World crossover is pretty great, too. If anyone has seen some other S1 or S2 A.U’s that’ve come out recently I’d love to see them. I will, of course, keep re-watching the canon episodes as needed and trying to write, also, by muses seem to be hibernating lately so any help would be very much appreciated.  
> As always, thanks for reading! ~ Jess


	11. Lots of Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Once again I find myself saying sorry because of the prolonged wait. It really isn’t intentional. I just wanted this scene to grow longer and develop more, but it stubbornly stayed where it was, so it’s what you’re getting now. Hopefully you still enjoy it!

**_Chapter 11: Lots of Crazy_**.

_ Oliver Queen's P.O.V. _

 

Oliver stayed still once he’d gotten inside, just watching the former druglord. He had to stay that way, for at least that moment: till he was sure he wouldn’t just attack this monster who’s poison had put his baby sister in the hospital, on trial, and almost to prison not too long ago…

 

Count Vertigo hadn’t noticed the vigilante’s own entrance—he was too busy staring at the bars of another grated window as he started speaking to a seemingly empty cell. “Here I was born, and there I died…”

 

The large light outside was supposed to be illuminating the perimeter, but the senseless man before him was the only one looking at it. No one had noticed the vigilante finding his way inside the asylum, because no one was watching. There were no guards outside and the cameras weren’t functioning at all. As far as security went, all they seemed to have was locks on the doors, some gates in the hallway, and a few big orderlies wandering around.

 

It was absurdly easy to get into the cell of this dangerous man. Absurd because if it was so easy for the vigilante to get in, it’d be just as easy for _him_ to get out if he thought about it.

 

But like most things on this side of the city—the same side as The Glades, just like Iron Heights Prison barely a mile away—money was the problem: or, more specifically, the lack of it. So Oliver might have to make a sizeable donation to _Starling County Institute For Mental Health_ —or start a fundraiser, something like that.

 

But that was a thought for another time…

 

“It was only a moment for you,” the Count was still muttering to himself. “You took _no notice_.”

 

The words were disdainful and derisive, but beyond that they held no real meaning. And the vigilante hadn’t come here to just listen to the madman mutter meaningless nonsense.

 

So Oliver finally decided to just get this over with: jumping down and grabbing the man by his shirt to slam him up against a nearby grate that wasn’t so well lit. “A woman died last night,” he growled once he was standing in front of the maniac, his head at that careful angle to maximize the hood’s shadow even while he was looking down. “From your _poison_.”

 

“Lots of women die,” the Count answer in that same strange, almost thoughtful but not quite _there_ tone. “Lots of nights. For lots of reasons.”

 

“Someone is selling Vertigo again,” the vigilante snarled at him. “ _Where_ is it coming from?”

 

The whacko finally seemed to rouse at that, glancing up towards him then, but still not seeming to be all there as he did it. “I remember you. Man. In Hood.” He raised his hand, holding up the paper the archer hadn’t noticed he’d had. “ _You_ are never far from my thoughts.”

 

There was some sort of messy crayon drawing on it. The largest blur of crayon color on it was green, but Oliver didn’t study it any more closely than that as the sound of footsteps stopped in the hallway, followed by the clear jingle of keys.

 

He was out of time, but it didn’t matter anyway.

 

The man really was mad. That oh so superior scorn was still there, dripping disdain even while madness made him drool. The brain wasn’t there though. That psychopathic mind clearly hadn’t come back even after his body had recovered from the overdose.

 

Well, the court system had to get things right some of the time…

 

Oliver threw the Count down and went back out through the same narrow hole he’d made in the grating. Folding it into place again almost as easily as he’d folded it back. He hadn’t even needed to cut it, the rusty grating had snapped easily under just the slightest pressure. Probably because the opening outside of it hadn’t even been protected by the same shield of glass as the others so all sorts of weather made it through…

 

“You have failed this city!” the Count started screeching a second later. “You have failed this city! You have _failed this city!_ ”

 

Oliver wasn’t surprised to hear Lance’s voice moments later. It made sense that the detective would check here, too.

 

“You could have just said he was **_nuts_** ,” Lance sighed, obviously forcing himself to accept the same realization that Oliver was.

 

This was definitely a dead end.

 

“You have failed this city!” the Count was still vehemently screaming, and the shouts followed the vigilante as he left.

 

Oliver half wondered how long the crazy man would keep that up, but it didn’t matter really. He had to figure out where the new Vertigo was coming from and how to stop it—and the man who originally created the horrible drug wasn’t going to be of any help.

 

Inconvenient and problematic though that was, a big part of him couldn’t still couldn’t feel sorry for what he’d done to the other man. He probably should, but the poison the man had created to cause ‘the perfect high’ had killed so many people, and hurt many, many more—to the Count’s delight. Thea, of course, mattered the most to her big brother, but it wasn’t just her. It was the whole city. The bastard hadn’t just failed Starling City: he’d deliberately set out to do it harm, and he’d deserved what he’d gotten for it. It might be vindictive, and it definitely was vengeful, but Oliver couldn’t believe it was wrong…

 

Now wasn’t the time for those thoughts though.

 

Now someone else was hurting his city, and the archer had to stop it.

 

So where could he look next?

 

If the Count wasn’t the one behind this, who was?

 

Someone who found his secret recipe somewhere?

 

Oliver considered that as he made his way back to his motorcycle, where it was hidden in shadowy alley not far from the asylum. But he was shaking his head as he climbed onto the bike and put his helmet on.

 

The Count wasn’t the type to write something like that down and just leave it for anyone to find. No matter how careful he had to be to make sure it was made correctly—the high that he’d proudly proclaimed fifty-six people had died to perfect.

 

He’d had other people brewing for him when Oliver had found him because of the water supply. Maybe one of them had gotten the horrible idea to pick up where the bastard had left off. Months later, after the _S.C.P.D_ had let them go with a warning, or they’d served those months, or they were out on parole, or bail. Maybe…

 

But it could also be someone completely unrelated, couldn’t it? Another chemist who’d bought Vertigo back when the Count was selling it, and decided to reverse engineer it after he was caught so that they could sell it themselves…

 

Oliver growled to himself as he sped through the streets, hating the feeling that he was just spinning his wheels when there was someone out there hurting his city.

 

Burning rubber wasn’t helping him think either, and he’d already scoured the city as the vigilante more than once. That many of the drug deals were made in or near the docks, rather than scattered throughout the glades was the only thing he’d managed to find so far. And just like last time the dealers didn’t know anything useful. Not yet anyway.

 

And, unfortunately, he did have to be somewhere tonight.

* * *

NEXT: _Bad News_.

_John knows he should be better than this, but he also knows he’ll never be able to let it go…._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, there’s another look into Oliver’s head. I know it’s pretty much just another scene straight from the show, but I found the canon scene fascinating for just the element of ‘wow he really is crazy’ and ‘what’s Oliver thinking while he’s growling’ and ‘that hood really doesn’t hide his face very well’ …so this was born. I held onto it longer than I wanted to mainly to see if there was a way to extend it into a more developed scene, but it didn’t work. So, here it is.  
> At least with this done I can stop reread it and work on future scenes more. And, in theory, they shouldn’t take too long to write since many of them are already stacked up in the ‘almost done but is it done?’ phase. So hopefully I’ll be ready to update sooner rather than later.  
> Sorry again for the wait.  
> Thank you for reading! Comments, constructive criticism, wild ideas, off the wall theories, et al are always appreciated, too! :-D


	12. Bad News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here we have another update! Hope everyone enjoy it! :-D

_**Chapter 12: Bad News**_.

_John Diggle's P.O.V. _

 

John hadn’t been able to read the Starling City Star article with a dispassionate eye the first few times through. The first many times through…

 

The thought that Andy’s killer was still out there and still killing was difficult to stomach, even when the proof wasn’t staring him in the face. But his time in the Army had taught him more than a few things about control, patience, timing and many other necessary skills. So he’d read the article, again and again, till he was sure he was seeing all the facts unaltered by his rage.

 

Therefore he already knew this article word-for-word. But he might have missed something so he was reading it again.

**_SENATOR PATTERSON_ **

**_KILLED BY SNIPER._ **

_Promising young senator shot down just before major appointment was to be made—_

 

“Uncle John?” his nephew’s timid voice came from right next to his elbow, and he quickly folded the paper closed.

 

It didn’t matter that the little guy was only just learning to read and barely recognized newspapers as something that _could_ be read like his picture books, his uncle didn’t want anything about Deadshot anywhere near him.

 

“Hey, buddy,” John tried to smile as he looked down at that little face that looked so much like Andy had when they were both a lot younger. When the world hadn’t seemed like such a scary place, because their innocent eyes hadn’t known enough to be afraid.

 

“Will you read ‘Logan Bogan’ to me?” A.J asked hopefully, holding up the short little picture book that was his favorite right now.

 

John tried to smile, but he wasn’t that surprised when Carly darted over before he could even try to answer. How she just knew he needed the rescue he’d never understand, but she did.

 

“Sweetheart, get into bed and mommy will read to you in a minute,” she told her son.

 

“But I want Uncle John to read to me!” A.J protested, pouting at his mother, which only made him look that much more his father used to. God, was that really a couple decades ago?

 

There were times when it was reassuring to see that this little piece of his little brother would always be there. But not right now with the article about Deadshot printed on the paper in his hands. Right now it was like a knife in his chest, and it was all he could just to sit there trying to smile for his nephew.

 

“Uncle John’s had a long day,” Carly insisted gently, smoothing her son’s bangs back from his forehead as she led him away. “He’ll read to you next time.”

 

John watched them go, a big part of him wishing he could follow. But an even bigger part had such a hard time trying to smile as he looked into his nephew’s eyes these days. Now that he _knew_ who had killed Andy, and that that bastard was still out there, still killing whoever had the misfortune to end up in his crosshairs.

 

Would it be different if Oliver hadn’t thought the sniper dead when he’d told John about him?

 

The thought of an arrow through Andy’s murderer’s eye had felt so right. Like justice had been served even if what John wanted dealt was vengeance and Oliver’s actual objective then was protecting Deadshot’s targets at the time. But it’d felt like a massive weight off of John’s chest either way, one that he hadn’t known was there until it was gone. It’d made everything the vigilante did feel so right, or at least mostly right—and that was still true.

 

But now the weight of his world was back with a vengeance all its own. Impossible to ignore.

 

 _Logan Bogan_ was a very short story, as long as A.J didn’t want it read five or ten times, which wasn’t unusual. Tonight he must’ve been pretty tired, because Carly came back only a few minutes later, with a familiar concerned look on her face that only made John feel worse. He’d seen it too many times lately, and that it was because of him didn’t make him feel better at all. This wonderful woman and her son deserved better.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry,” John apologized automatically. “I’ve been someplace else today.”

 

Not just today, he knew that.

 

But this burden wasn’t something he could share.

 

“What’s going on with you?” Carly asked him gently.

 

John shook his head. “I’m just trying to figure some stuff out.”

 

He’d thought about telling her the truth, but how could he? Unlike him she seemed to have moved on from her husband’s death, unless he was stupid enough to mention it. Sure she didn’t mind talking about Andy, because they’d both loved him, but she was right when she said she couldn’t mourn him forever: that that wouldn’t be healthy for her _or_ A.J.

 

And even if John could make himself tell her, how would he explain _any of it?_ Sure, he could say one of his military buddy’s somewhere or other had clued him in on the connection, but then she might want to talk to them and how could that work? Short of some elaborate ruse where he sent one of his friends digging for information on Deadshot and then asked them to talk to Carly about it, too, he couldn’t think of anything that might work. And yeah, _that_ might work, but that sort of thing wasn’t at all who he was and he couldn’t convince himself that he should attempt it either. She’d moved on, for the most part, and John wouldn’t want to ruin that for her even if she hadn’t moved on with him…

 

Carly nodded in understanding, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently as she sat down on the arm of the couch next to him. “If you need to talk about anything, you know I am here for you?” she reminded him earnestly, just a bit of a question in the end of her tone.

 

John nodded, smiling up at her a little more easily.

 

_Beep… Beep…_

 

John automatically got up at the familiar sounded, heading for where his phone was plugged in and charging. “It is Oliver Queen, with an emergency,” he told her as he pocketed his phone. “Gotta go.”

 

Carly only nodded: unhappy but understanding.

 

John managed to give her a quick peck on the lips and make it out the door, with it closed again behind him before he sighed. But it was close.

 

Maybe that was why it was such a relief to be walking into the vigilante’s hideout barely fifteen minutes later.

 

“Got here as quickly as I could,” John said as the archer turned towards him, “This about the glyph in your father’s notebook?”

 

Oliver was shaking his head before he finished asking. “Felicity is still working on that. We have another problem,” he hit a key on the keyboard, and a familiar voice started coming from the computers, which John could see as he walked closer to the monitors was because one screen contained a local reporter giving a breaking news report.

 

“ _Starling City is once again at war with the drug known on the streets as Vertigo. It used to be the city’s most lethal vice, but the purple and green pill was nowhere to be found for the last three months…_ ”

 

Oliver hit the keyboard again, the grim explanation of the mentioned problem at hand already made clear. “Over the past few days, the city has been flooded with a new version of Vertigo. More addictive. More unstable,” he shook his head sadly. “It killed a girl near the club. Just like it almost killed Thea.”

 

John didn’t miss the emphasis there, but how close this’d just keep hitting to home for the other man wasn’t something they could focus on. Knowing Felicity she might bring it up, after everything was said and done, but they were still in the middle of this mess—and he had to frown at the far from pleasant outlook himself. “Okay, what are you thinking? We should pay the Count a visit?”

 

“He was my first visit,” Oliver shook his head again. “Waste of time. He’s sumasshedshiy.”

 

John blinked, then frowned at him, not having a clue what the last word meant and not even trying to hide his confusion. It was probably Chinese, because it didn’t sound Russian, but then again the archer might’ve learned more languages than those two while he was supposedly stuck on a deserted island…

 

Oliver didn’t wait for him to ask. “Gah…” he made a whacko sound in explanation, along with a circular motion of his hand by his head for emphasis.

  

John nodded, not sure why the vigilante didn’t just say the Count was crazy but going with it all the same.

 

“Since he was the only that knew the formula for Vertigo,” Oliver sighed, spreading his hands in a slightly helpless gesture that looked strange from him. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

 

John understood the feeling. Lost and helpless weren’t acceptable feelings for either man of action at all, but that didn’t mean they didn’t sometimes face them just like everyone else. Except they were talking about someone poisoning their city, which they’d dedicated themselves to protecting. Damn it.

 

“ _Good, you’re there,_ ” Felicity’s voice suddenly came out of the computer, making both men jump before they looked to one of the monitors, to see her frowning at them from the screen. “ _And I see you were watching the news, but you’re a bit behind._ ”

 

“What’d you mean?” Oliver asked, frowning at his girlfriend through her computers. “And aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for dinner?”

 

John bit his tongue, because he had to wonder if the other man had a death wish. For that matter, had all of the billionaire’s luck with women in years gone by been due _entirely_ due to his trust fund rather than just partially? Because it was like he was hardwired to say the wrong things sometimes…

 

Lucky for him, Felicity only rolled her eyes. “ _I’ll be ready,_ ” she replied, then asked him, “ _So we’re still going, right?_ ”

 

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Oliver wondered warily.

 

It was a fair question, since they had no real leads to follow. Yet.

 

Felicity sighed then, “ _Right, you don’t know yet. You’ve gotta see this report. It aired just a few minutes ago,_ ” she told them, then they heard her click a few keys on her side before the news window Oliver had replayed for him a minute ago was replaced by another one with the same reporter giving even worse news.

 

“ _—at the scene where police say a disturbed patient escaped, only hours ago. Authorities issued an immediate lockdown at the Starling County_

 _Institute for Mental Health following the breakout. Police are warning people to avoid contact with the drug dealer known as the Count—_ ”

 

The video cut off abruptly as Felicity made it stop with a few more keystrokes from miles away. She didn’t say anything, just waited patiently for the same blow-up that the former soldier was expecting.

 

John waited a moment, watching the tension building behind the other man’s face—and between his shoulder blades, and his curled fists. After a moment he offered the obvious observation, “Not so crazy after all, huh?”

 

Without saying anything the Oliver walked over to the med-table and abruptly flipped the whole thing over with an angry shout.

 

_SMASH!_

 

John just kept watching, honestly glad that that was over with.

 

It wasn’t too long ago that the vigilante would’ve tried to keep that all pent up inside—taking it out only on his own body during work-outs or on his target when he could finally aim an arrow at them. Or the poor people that found themselves between the archer and said targets, frequently resulting in brutal beat downs that’d earned him his infamy on the streets just as much as his arrows had.

 

The few items that’d been on the table were non-essential and the cleanup would only be the work of a few minutes. At least Oliver had let that rage out: and he’d even had the presence of mind to put some space between himself and the computers before he did anything. Then again, with his girlfriend watching through one of the monitors that wasn’t too surprising; the archer was dense and stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Plus his protectiveness of his girlfriend likely extended to her precious computers, too, so they probably would’ve been safe even if she wasn’t watching from one of the screens.

 

“ _Good, let it out,_ ” Felicity approved lightly, a verbal echo of John’s own thoughts. Before she calmly continued with, “ _Then you’ll have to pause is for later tonight._ ”

 

Right. The family dinner. That was going to go over well…

 

Oliver turned back towards the computers, not quite able to suppress his scowl. “Felicity—”

 

“ _Oliver,_ ” she interrupted just as firmly, going on even as her boyfriend silently scowled at her. “ _We are meeting your mother and your sister for dinner at Table Salt in less than an hour. If you aren’t there I will stop all the programs I have running to try and fix this and leave them off until you apologize for abandoning me to your mother and sister—again—after promising you wouldn’t._ ”

 

John didn’t feel the need to fidget. He was kind of used to just watching these two. This was easy if he compared it to the dark place that even A.J and Carly couldn’t pull his thoughts out of as long as Andy’s killer was still out there and still killing. It should probably seem strange that there was something comforting about silently watching the young couple work through things like this, but he’d never admit that out loud.

 

Oliver shook his head. “Felicity, I can call my mom and—”

 

“ _Do you really want your sister at home?_ ” his girlfriend interrupted him again to ask, “ _Watching the news right now?_ ”

 

“She’s got a point, man,” John spoke up, shrugging when the archer frowned at him. It was true, and it wasn’t like they had anything they could do now anyway.

 

Felicity spoke up again from the computer before her boyfriend could muster a reply. “ _Oliver, I have dozens of programs tracking everything going on in this city. Several of them specifically scanning every mention of Vertigo and looking for the Count. If they find anything, I’ll know right away._ ”

 

John might be inclined to doubt anyone else that told him computers could do that much unsupervised, but not Felicity. Besides, from the time stamp on that latest news report it’d just broken a few minutes ago. She must’ve gotten the alert and called right away. And the towel her hair was wrapped in right now only proved that she hadn’t been at her computer looking…

 

Oliver stared at her face on the monitor for a long moment, before he sighed, his shoulders’ sagging ever so slightly as he admitted defeat. “Fine.”

 

“ _Thank you,_ ” Felicity nodded, pausing with a grimace as she reached up to re-secure the towel that’d started to slip at the motion. “ _Now I have to finish getting ready. I will see you at the restaurant._ ”

 

Then the window she’d been talking out of disappeared from the screen just as suddenly as it’d appeared there minutes before.

 

Both men just stared at the scary computers for several seconds after that anyway.

 

“How does she do that?” John let himself wonder aloud, despite knowing the other man likely didn’t have any idea either.

 

Oliver just grunted as he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at the same time. He was still scowling at the monitor that’d held the more recent news report, but that wouldn’t help anyone.

 

“Better get going, man,” John told the archer then. “That restaurant’s at least twenty minutes away; and I’m sure she was serious about pausing everything till you apologize if you don’t show.”

 

“She was,” the archer agreed with a sigh.

 

“I don’t see her accepting an apology text or something like that to keep her from hitting pause.”

 

“She wouldn’t leave everyone in danger if there’s something we can do about it,” Oliver replied, then shook his head again. “But she wouldn’t be making me go to dinner if there was something to do now either.”

 

“You gotta eat,” John agreed with a shrug. “And your family matters.”

 

Both were things they’d talked about before, and likely would again. Though the second point felt all the more real to John now that he found himself unable to really interact with his nephew and Carly because Deadshot was still out there somewhere…

 

It really was like some titanic weight had dropped onto his shoulders, casting a long shadow across his life.

 

“Yeah,” the vigilante sighed, and then he pointed towards the cabinets hidden behind all the weapons wracks. “There’s a case full of money back there. And boxes of some stuff for tracking the bills,” he shrugged as he added: “Some kind of spray on nano-robot thing, I think.”

 

John nodded. “You want me to buy some Vertigo, see where the money goes?”

 

Oliver visibly hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Just get it ready,” he told him firmly. “I’ll keep dinner as short as we can, then I’ll be your back-up, okay?”

 

“Roger that,” John nodded approvingly.

 

Approving of more than a few things.

 

That the vigilante was taking the time to go to dinner like he’d promised.

 

That he’d come up with a plan that might just work, and only minutes after admitting he couldn’t think of anything.

 

And that he seemed to be buying into the idea that back-up _was_ important, at least some of the time.

 

Also, it felt good to be doing something that could help the city survive this catastrophe.

 

Even if Deadshot was still pulling triggers and ending lives somewhere out there, just like he’d taken Andy.

 

The assassin had come to Starling City for contracts twice in just the last year, coming back the second time despite the Vigilante’s interference the first time, too. So he’d undoubtedly be back again.

 

And John Diggle would be waiting.

* * *

NEXT: _Dinner with the Family_.

 

_Roy already knew that Thea came from a completely different world, but for her he’d try to ‘fit in,’ no matter how stupidly impossible that was…._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, there it is: a little look inside Digg’s head at this point in time. This segment from the episode really seemed to demand it.  
> And the long awaited dinner is next! Finally, I know. The wait shouldn’t be TOO long for it, because it’s ready to edit now. I’m also not to busy with work at the moment, though I have to report for jury duty later this week. If that turns into a trial I may have less time on my hands overall. If I just end up sitting in a room with a bunch of other bored people who have to be there for the day, too, I might get some work done. I’m honestly not sure what I’d prefer. I don’t REALLY want to end up stuck on a jury for any length of time, but I’m kind of curious about what it’d be like, too. So I guess I’ll just see what happens.  
> I’ve made more progress on later scenes of the story, too. That’s where my muses are interested at the moment. And my story I mean the series, actually. This story is mostly all outlined with many of the scenes semi-written, so I’m basically just plowing through revising them in order to post them. On the plus side, however, the scenes later in the series being done will make it easier to post them when I finally get there. However long THAT takes.  
> As always, thank you for reading. And please share any thoughts, constructive criticism, wild ideas, etc., that you may have for this series. I always love reading them. ;-)  
> ~ Jess S


	13. Dinner with the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, I feel like I should apologize AGAIN because it has been over a month since I last posted. Honestly I’ve been sitting on this chapter a while because I wasn’t sure it was complete, but I’ve finally decided this is the best I’m going to get. And it’s not like I can’t come back and revise again later.  
> So, hopefully all of you, my wonderful, oh-so-patient and somehow endlessly enthusiastic readers will enjoy it! :-D

_**Chapter 13: Dinner with the Family**. _

 

_ Roy's P.O.V. _

 

Roy made himself look away as yet another rich guy frowned at him. It had to be the safest thing to do right now, since there was a whole gamut of snobs in this super high-end restaurant that kids from the Glades weren’t even supposed to think about, never mind go into. He could barely believe he was here, but somehow he hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ when Thea Queen had turned her big pleading eyes on him.

 

Again.

 

_Twice_ in the same day.

 

A part of him had half expected the security guys to grab him and kick him out back at the mansion. And that was after the younger guard at the gate had frowned at him but let the taxi by because Thea told him to. Then there was the guest bedroom that looked like it belonged in a magazine from a luxury hotel or some sort of super expensive decorator. The kind of magazines he’d only seen in dumpsters or on some store shelves. And he was supposed to sleep in that bed that looked like it cost more than his rickety little house or any other house in the Glades?

 

And the nice butler-lady that was some sort of nurse when needed. She hadn’t frowned at him like the security guys but she hadn’t liked his bruises. Then again Roy didn’t like them much himself. But at least she’d convinced Thea he didn’t need to head to the hospital for another shot or something like that.

 

Roy had already known that. He’d taken his share of beat downs before.

 

He couldn’t say ‘no’ to those big blue eyes though.

 

Not when she asked him to hide in her freaking castle.

 

Not when she’d asked him to let the nice butler-lady check to make sure he was going to be okay.

 

And not when she’d told him to throw his club clothes on to head out to dinner to meet her folks either.

 

So, here he was. Surrounded by people that kept wondering why he’d been let into their top-tier-only bubble. That Thea Queen was standing next to him had kept everyone from saying anything, but the frowns and second-looks would keep coming all night. It’d be some sort of hell if Thea wasn’t holding onto his arm like she had from the second she’d stepped out of the limo that she’d had bring them here. But she was, and somehow that helped him not glare back at all the snobs.

 

“There’s Ollie and Felicity,” Thea said suddenly, raising her hand to waive a little towards the entrance.

 

Roy hoped he didn’t look like his stomach had turned into a solid stone inside his bruised gut just then. He’d seen Oliver Queen before, but that’d always been at _Verdant_ , where the club’s owner’s eyes had skimmed right past him along with all the other employees. He wasn’t just another employee: he was the guy dating Thea. And the former castaway was frowning right at him.

 

He shouldn’t be so nervous; the guy was just another rich snob who used to party even harder than Thea ever had. But he _was_ Thea’s big brother, and that kind of mattered. Even to a kid from the Glades that’d grown up with two parents that barely tolerated each other, let alone him most of the time…

 

“Hey, mom’s not here yet,” Thea offered as her brother and his girlfriend reach them.

 

And Roy couldn’t be the only one that heard just how nervous she was. Knowing that somehow made his stomach feel a little less stone-like.

 

“She said she had to finish something at the office,” Thea kept going in that fast-talk way that meant she was trying to just plow through. “And she’ll be here soon, I guess. I think our table’s ready though.”

 

“It should be, since our reservation is for right about now,” the blonde woman replied with a warm smile.

 

Really warm. Not fake, snobby or critical at all.

 

Roy’s stomach melted a little bit more. He almost wanted to smile back at the blonde, like Thea and her brother were, but his face didn’t like smiling or frowning at all right now. It wouldn’t until the big bruise across his jaw was a lot less blackish-blue…

 

“It’s Roy, right?” the blonde asked a second later, still smiling as she held out her hand to him.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Roy replied, remembering to shake her hand after a second. The normal greeting—or the acceptance, maybe—felt almost as strange as just being in this place was. But it was the opposite end of the scale: the nice-feeling strange, despite all the bruises that were mostly covered up by his nice clothing that was mostly what he wore for work plus a nice coat that his girlfriend had bought for him and made him wear, too.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Roy,” the blonde told him. “I’m Felicity.”

 

“Nice to meet you, too,” Roy replied by rote.

 

“Have you met Oliver?” Felicity asked, giving back the opening she’d stolen away a second ago.

 

“We haven’t,” Oliver Queen answered before he could even try to say anything. But at least he wasn’t frowning as he offered his own hand to shake. “I’m Thea’s disapproving older brother.”

 

Roy would’ve liked to roll his eyes, but something about the serious look on the older man’s face stopped him and his girlfriend spoke up again before he could say anything in response.

 

“Okay, okay, can we get our table and drinks already?” Thea all but pleaded as she lightly slapped her brother’s hand to make him let Roy go after that first hard handshake.

 

Roy wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that the guy who’d been known as even more of a fulltime partier than his sister pre-shipwreck could look so serious, or the strength of that hand and those hard calluses that were equally unexpected. Yeah, this guy had undoubtedly had to do a lot of physical labor to survive on some nowhere island, but shouldn’t the calluses be softer by now? Oliver had been back in civilization for months. And Roy didn’t think his own hands were weak or soft, but he certainly hadn’t expected to feel so physically inferior just shaking Thea’s big brother’s hand…

 

“We can get our table, but you won’t be drinking anything with alcohol,” Oliver Queen replied with a stern edge to his voice that made the younger Queen frown at him, but he ignored Thea and looked back at him. “What about you, Roy? Are you old enough to drink?”

 

“Not yet. Almost,” Roy admitted a little reluctantly. Three years wasn't a terrible age gap, and it'd mean even less the older they got. It'd probably still get another dose of the big brother disapproval that he was getting sent his way. It was still something that the big brother—and maybe Thea’s mother—might not like. And it felt really weird to care about that, but he did care about Thea so he couldn’t help it. Though that disapproval was coming anyway, no matter how nice the man’s girlfriend was.

 

“Wow, he’s taking the whole disapproving big brother thing very seriously, isn’t he?” Felicity stage-whispered to Thea, effectively turning her smile upside down as she smiled at both of them, ignoring her own boyfriend’s bemused eye-roll next to her.

 

The comment—or maybe Oliver’s obvious bemusement and the blonde’s still so friendly smile—seemed to help some more of the tension leave Roy’s shoulders. It clearly helped Thea relax a bit, too, which was the first time he’d realized that she’d been tensed tonight, too. Sure, she’d seemed nervous and it made sense since she was introducing her boyfriend from the Glades to her family, the royalty of Starling City, but it was almost funny to think that she felt as protective of him here as he did of her in the Glades. Then again, this was her world and it was nice to think that she wanted to protect him just as much as he wanted to protect her…

 

“Mister Queen?” the restaurant’s spick-and-span hostess appeared suddenly between the two couples, a professional smile aimed at the billionaire. “Your table is ready.”

 

It was almost laughable, since the staff hadn’t even seemed to notice Thea when she was standing next to him—the beaten-up boy who shouldn’t be here with the bruises he wasn’t even trying to hide and the wardrobe that was better suited to one of the busboys than their diners. Add Oliver Queen to the mix, though, and all was forgiven?

 

“Great,” Oliver nodded, and then he told the woman, “The rest of our party will be joining us shortly, but want us to start without them.”

 

“Of course, sir,” the hostess replied, still smiling as she turned towards the tables. “Follow me, please.”

 

For most other people, places like _Table Salt_ wouldn’t be so accommodating, but for the Queen family every business in Starling City probably bent over backwards. Maybe not always for Thea, though if she hadn’t been here with Roy that might be different. They probably still wouldn’t card the young heiress though, despite the whole city knowing she’d only turned eighteen not too long ago. The glamour of that notoriety had obviously worn off for Thea, though it’d taken almost going to jail to do it.

 

Not that that was something Roy would make the mistake of bringing up if he could help it. The pain he saw in his girlfriend’s eyes when anyone brought up Vertigo wasn’t something he liked to see. And it’d been in the news too damn much anyway.

 

They were led to a table not quite at the center of the room, but close enough for everyone to know that the Queen family was dining there tonight. Roy quickly helped Thea with her chair before moving to the seat between her and Felicity, leaving the disapproving big brother to take one of the seats on the other side of the round table.

 

“Thanks,” Thea offered with a shy little smile as he sat next to her.

 

Roy just nodded as they all accepted their menus from the waiter that the hostess had introduced as ‘Charles,’ who’d first be bringing them rolls to go with their water while they looked at the menu. Then they were left alone except for the busboy that appeared to fill their water glasses.

 

“Thank you,” Felicity offered once her glass was filled, still smiling warmly as she looked across the table at them. “So Thea didn’t mention anything this morning, and I can’t think of a more roundabout way to ask, so, are you alright, Roy?”

 

“Yeah,” Roy replied immediately. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“He won’t go to a doctor,” Thea told them with a sigh. “But Raisa already checked, she said he’s fine.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Roy muttered almost too softly for her to hear, but she did so she scowled at him.

 

“What happened?” Oliver asked a lot more abruptly than his girlfriend, no apology in his abrupt tone at all.

 

“Ran into the wrong people,” Roy admitted, and then asked, “What should I get here?”

 

“I haven’t been here, but everything’s supposed to be fabulous,” Felicity replied lightly. “If you like tuna, their mom loves the tuna tartar. I was going to try the salmon myself,” she shrugged, and then looked at Oliver. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Oliver confirmed, then admitted. “The sirloin’s good.”

 

Roy would love a good steak, but he was sure that his jaw would hate him for even attempting to chew it right now. Just thinking about it made his face ache a little more.

 

“What about appetizers?” Felicity asked, looking at the table at large. “Anything jumping out at anyone, or are we all just getting soup or salads?”

 

Roy glanced at the mentioned area of the menu, not letting himself wince when the absence of any prices stabbed out at him. The phase ‘if you have to ask, you probably can’t afford it’ came to mind, and here it was more than likely true. He knew no one here would let him even try to pay tonight, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow the fact that an appetizer here probably cost more than he typically spent covering all three meals in a day.

 

“What do you think ‘dolmakadia’ is?” Thea asked with a small frown. “The menu says there’s a vegetarian version or one with gyro meat, but not that’s it.”

 

“Stuffed grape leaves,” Felicity answered with the same easy smile still in place. “They’re filled with a rice and herb mixture at least, plus the meat sometimes.”

 

“Gyro meat’s a beef and lamb blend, isn’t it?” Oliver put in, and his girlfriend nodded.

 

“And spices, yes,” Felicity nodded. “We should get both for the table. They’re quite good and Nyssa might like the reminder of home.”

 

Roy was honestly wondering why anyone would want to eat leaves, but rice and meat didn’t sound too bad and growing up in the Glades meant he’d learned a long time ago not to turn down any food, so why not? No one was asking him, though, so he just kept studying the menu to try and figure out what super expensive meal he could order that wouldn’t be torture to eat.

 

“Where is your cousin, anyway?” Oliver asked then, and he was frowning a little at his girlfriend now. “She’s still coming tonight?”

 

“She is, but she had some business to deal with, too,” Felicity replied lightly, her eyes still studying her own menu. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

 

Roy had a feeling he and Thea were both missing something here, but since he’d just met the older couple a few minutes ago he wasn’t going to say anything. He’d be shocked if Thea didn’t though, sooner or later.

 

“Her security detail dropped you off,” Oliver observed.

 

“Some of them did,” Felicity agreed, and then she looked up from her menu to meet Roy’s curiously watching eyes. “You might want to try the gnocchi or the penne, Roy. They’d probably be the easiest to chew, if you don’t want soup.”

 

Roy blinked, and then looked down at the menu again, easily finding the two entrees that’d been blurring together with all the other overpriced expensive edibles when he’d looked.

 

“That’s a good idea,” Thea agreed immediately, looking over at him hopefully. “We could each get one if you want to try both?”

 

Roy blinked at her, then barely stopped himself from shrugging. “Sure,” he agreed, then asked. “What’s the sauce on the penne? Ar-ab—”

 

“Arrabbiata,” Felicity cut in with a smile before he could completely butcher the word. “It means ‘angry,’ in Italian. It’s a spicy sauce; think normal marinara with a lot of red chili peppers thrown in.”

 

“You get that one, Roy,” Thea instructed. “I’ll get the gnocchi, okay?”

 

“Sure,” he agreed again, not missing her grin at making him order the ‘angry’ sauce, but not minding it either. Especially since it meant he could close his menu and not have to look at the long list of fancy foods that he could not remotely afford.

 

Apparently he was the last one to put his menu down, and the waitress must’ve been watching for that because she appeared as soon as he did. Beer would be great right now, but he’d just admitted he wasn’t twenty-one to the disapproving brother so Roy settled for a coke just like Thea, while the other couple both got glasses to go with the super expensive bottle of wine the billionaire ordered. Not that he’d looked at the wine list, but Thea’s raised eyebrow said a lot even before she spoke up as soon as the waiter had hurried away again.

 

“Lafite Rothschild, really?” Thea asked her brother. “And isn’t 1982 their most popular year? Trying to impress, Ollie?”

 

“I promised Felicity a bottle a while back, this is the first time I’ve seen it since then,” Oliver shrugged, returning his girlfriend’s smile.

 

“I love red wine,” Felicity confessed with a shrug of her own as they looked at her. “Ah, there’s Nyssa—and your mom, too,” she said with a nod towards the front door.

 

Roy rose automatically when the older couple did.

 

Thea was a second behind them but the first to speak as soon as the last members of their little party reached them. “Hey mom, you made it.”

 

“We all did,” Moira Queen agreed with a  smile for her daughter as she accepted a kiss on the cheek from her son and clasped hands with Felicity before she indicated the pretty raven-haired woman that’d followed her and the hostess over. “Nyssa and I met at the door.”

 

“Everyone, this is my cousin, Nyssa,” Felicity immediately introduced the other woman. “Nyssa, you’ve met Moira and Oliver. These are Thea Queen and Roy Harper.”

 

“Honored to meet you all,” the woman replied with a smoky sort of accent that he couldn’t place.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Thea immediately replied.

 

Roy offered a respectful nod towards both women as they looked at him, trying for a little smile, too, but dropping it quickly as his whole jaw protested the mistake. He couldn’t make himself say anything before he had to, either.

 

Should Thea’s mother look so intimidating to him? She was still smiling, and about as pleasant as anyone could be, but somehow he’d felt less worried when he was facing gangbangers in the Glades. Even the ones that’d given him this latest beat down just to see if he knew anything about the vigilante that’d saved his life. He didn’t, and he’d said so several times. But his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth as those eyes that were the same pretty blue as his girlfriend’s focused on him just then.

 

“I believe you’re our new house guest?” Moira Queen smiled at him as they all blinked at her.

 

Her son’s blink quickly turned into a confused frown while he glanced between his mother, the new boyfriend he’d just met, and his little sister. Roy didn’t blame him, but Thea just ignored him.

 

“Uh, yeah,” the youngest Queen answered for him with a not quite restrained wince as she asked, “I guess Raisa told you?”

 

“Of course Raisa told me, dear,” Moira replied, and then raised an eyebrow in a way that was weirdly familiar since her eyebrows were golden blonde, not cinnamon brown like her daughter’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Harper,” she offered, holding out her hand with a smile that didn’t slip even a little when it took him a second to realize he was supposed to shake her perfectly manicured hand with his much rougher one. Her grip was somehow soft but firm, and her smile was still there when he let go as quickly as he could. “Now that that’s out of the way, why don’t we all sit down? Have you ordered yet?”

 

“Yes,” Felicity answered as she was sitting, that same easy smile still there, making the former purse snatcher wish he could borrow just a little of her confidence. “We ordered a bottle of red for the table, and the appetizers should be on their way. They’re waiting on the dinner orders.”

 

“Perfect,” Moira approved with a nod, her smile turning to the dark beauty that’d entered with her. “I’ve been looking forward to the tuna tartar, but take your time with the menu, dear. There’s no rush.”

 

“Thank you, Missus Queen, but I believe I will try the sirloin,” Nyssa’s returning smile wasn’t as friendly or easy as her cousins, but somehow Roy didn’t think she was anywhere near as intimidated as he himself still felt right now. He could imagine this woman facing down the same gangbangers that’d turned him black and blue the other night—and wasn’t that a whacko thought?

 

“It’s good here,” Thea told her with a smile, then shrugged. “At least Ollie said it is, I haven’t tried it,” she admitted and her brother nodded when everyone looked at him.

 

“It’s good,” Oliver confirmed, before his eyes narrowed in on Roy again. “You’re staying at the mansion?”

 

“Yeah, just for a few days,” Roy met his gaze squarely, refusing to be intimidated even though he understood the desire to protect Thea—he’d felt it himself from the moment he’d found her standing on his doorstep all to near one of the worst part of the Glades. She’d been safe with her lawyer buddy near _C.N.R.I_ : the cops patrolling near there weren’t on the lookout for purse snatchers, but too many of the rougher types would be run right out. His house, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly so well protected. Something he’d tried to tell her more times than he could count now, but she wouldn’t let it stick even after he’d saved her from getting mugged or worse, let alone anytime since then.

 

“Something to do with those bruises?” the older man managed to surprise him by asking outright again. There was more curiosity there than disapproval though, so that was a slight improvement.

 

Thea answering before he could wasn’t so much of a surprise. “Yeah, something,” she shook her head. “He’s staying ‘cause I asked him to. And it’s not like we don’t have plenty of guest rooms.”

 

“We do,” Moira interjected before her son could say anything in reply. “And of course you can invite anyone you’d like to stay with us, dear,” she told her daughter before she looked at Roy and he kept his shoulders stiff so he wouldn’t try to shrink back in the chair. “Are the police looking into your assault, Mister Harper?”

 

Thea snorted, but stayed silent as her boyfriend answered.

 

“No, ma’am,” Roy shook his head. “The cops don’t do much in the Glades if they can help it. Like I said; wrong place, wrong time. But I’ll be fine.” He shrugged, pretending he didn’t feel the frown his girlfriend sent his way.

 

Moira glanced at her daughter before she looked back at him again and nodded. “Well, please let me know if there’s anything we can do to help,” she said, sounding strangely sincere.

 

The waiter arrived then with wine glasses, while one of the bus people dropped off their diet cokes and another waiter presented the bottle of wine to Oliver Queen.

 

“Oh, Lafite Rothschild? Excellent choice,” Moira approved as her son nodded to confirm it was the wine he’d ordered.

 

“She’ll taste it,” Oliver told the wine guy, indicating his girlfriend. “She’s the wine expert, not me.”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes, but smiled graciously as the waiter looked to her while he was working the corkscrew into the bottle to pull the cork out. She waited till he’d finished pouring a little wine into her glass before she picked it up, swirling the glass around a little then pausing to inhale the scent of the wine before she took a small sip. It’d look ridiculous if Roy tried to do it, he was sure, but she looked completely natural. After a moment they all watched her nod and smile at the waiter again. “It’s very good,” she approved, giving her boyfriend a smile that he returned.

 

Four glasses of wine were quickly filled and the final dinner orders were placed, then the servers disappeared again, leaving the party to keep trying for small talk.

 

“You live in the Glades, Roy?” Nyssa asked curiously, stabbing straight for the problem that the rest of them were politely dancing around.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Roy confirmed, staring steadily back into her eyes, ready for whatever scorn she might throw his way with words or silent looks, but surprisingly he only saw curiosity and thoughtfulness there.

 

She’d been introduced as Felicity’s cousin, though they really looked nothing alike. Both were beautiful women, but where the blonde was all helpfulness and smiles, her black-haired cousin was watchful and serious. None of the scorn he’d seen in the eyes of countless strangers made it into her dark gaze, just a careful sort of curiosity he could send straight back at her.

 

“I am not married, and my name is Nyssa,” she told him, shaking her head. “I’ve heard few good things about that neighborhood. Do the police not patrol there at all?”

 

Roy blinked, but then shrugged, painful though the motion was. “Not really. Not if they can avoid it. They raid the warehouses and try to keep peace between the crime families, but that’s just ‘cause that’s the stuff that mostly spills out of the Glades. They haven’t cared about the area in as long as I can remember.” He nodded to the club owner then. “Now at least they patrol around _Verdant_ , so it’s a bit better. But the rest of the Glades? ‘Bout all we’ve got is the Vigilante, and even he doesn’t care much about street crime.”

 

Moira gasped then, looking honestly shocked when they all looked at her. “That’s why you looked so familiar. You were—”

 

“The one that Savior psycho grabbed, yeah, that was me,” Roy cut in quickly to confirm. “Made me more well-known in the neighborhood than I’d like, but at least I’m still walking.”

 

Almost everyone looked a little upset at that. Even Oliver looked like he’d just been slapped for a second there.

 

The exception was Nyssa, she just looked thoughtful. “Your neighbors would have preferred your death?”

 

Roy blinked again, before shaking his head. “Not really. Most of ‘em don’t give a damn about me. Got their own lives to worry about.”

 

“Most, but not all?”

 

The woman was like a dog with a bone, but still somehow scarier.

 

Roy winced, but reluctantly admitted, “Some of ‘em wanted to know why the Arrow saved me. Took a while to convince ‘em I didn’t know anymore than they did.” He held the strange woman’s dark gaze for a moment, finally blinking when she nodded and turned towards her cousin but didn’t say anything else.

 

“That’s terrible,” Moira shook her head. “Of course you can stay with us as long as you like, Roy. But you really should talk to the police.”

 

Roy shook his head yet again, still ignoring how much his head didn’t like it. “That’d just leave me even worse off, ma’am. Then they’d call me a rat, too. And rats don’t live long in the Glades.”

 

“It’s a complicated balance, isn’t it? Living in the Glades?” Felicity offered before anyone else could say something. Her smile now was smaller but somehow understanding, too.

 

Some of the tension left Roy’s shoulders as he nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Well, you deserve a break at the mansion, I’m sure,” Felicity told him. “In the future if you want some place closer I live near the Glades myself. My cousin’s in the guest room right now, but the couch is always free, too.”

 

Roy blinked at her, again honestly surprised. “Thanks.”

 

Oliver, again not surprisingly, didn’t look very happy at this turn in the conversation but more surprisingly he didn’t say anything either. Something that had both his mother and his sister staring at him for a second while his girlfriend looked at her cousin.

 

“So you finished up your business deal, Nyssa?”

 

“Not entirely,” the other woman shook her head, taking a sip of her wine before she explained. “It may be a while yet before all is said and done.”

 

Felicity nodded before she looked back at her boyfriend’s mother. “And you, Moira? Your work kept you pretty late tonight, too?”

 

Moira sighed, “That’s one of the disadvantages to any executive position you’ll find, Felicity,” she shook her head, “Though you already put in more than enough time yourself. Especially with your work at _Verdant_ as well.”

 

“What’d you do at the club?” Roy asked without thinking, because the only thing he’d seen the boss’s girlfriend do there is party.

 

“I handle the computers,” Felicity told him with a shrug. “The security systems, all the electronics, things like that. Tommy’s been branching out into the bookkeeping more though, so that’s a little less work for me.”

 

“Bookkeeping?” Oliver frowned at her.

 

“Yes, Oliver. Your employees have to be paid, and so do all your bills,” the blonde shrugged again. “Tommy’s doing well. I think he may have overpaid your taxes once or twice, but overpaying is always better than underpaying. It’s not that hard to make the government give it back.”

 

“Wait you owe taxes already?” Thea blinked at her brother. “You’ve only been open a few months. I thought you wouldn’t have to pay taxes till next April.”

 

“ _Verdant_ ’s too successful for that, Thea,” Felicity told her with another smile.

 

“And the government does want every penny it can get,” Moira murmured, before she frowned at her son. “You could have _Q.C Accounting_ handle your books, Oliver. Your club is under our banner.”

 

Oliver said nothing as his girlfriend answered.

 

“I don’t think Tommy wants to,” Felicity told her. “He seems to like all the responsibility.” She shook her head. “And he usually does send all of the tax documents and the like to the accountants. It’s just one or two checks he wrote that I’ve had to ask him about.”

 

Thea snorted, “That’s a weird thought,” she shook her head as she took another sip of her soda, then finished, “Tommy liking responsibility.”

 

“Thea,” Moira chided her daughter while her son laughed.

 

“I was kind of surprised, too,” Oliver admitted. “He dove right into everything to do with the club. But he’s been great.”

 

“It’s been very good for both of you,” Moira approved, and her son didn’t try to deny it.

 

Roy kept quiet, because while he saw Tommy Merlyn is his role as the club’s manager all the time he’d managed to avoid Thea’s brother the fewer times he’d seen him around. Oliver didn’t interact much with the staff, so what he did for _Verdant_ other than front the funding Roy couldn’t guess. Nothing would work without the money, though, so even if Oliver wasn’t working he was important. And, anyway, Roy was _not_ going to step into the middle of any family drama if he could help it.

 

Almost like he could hear himself being thought about, Oliver looked back across the table at Roy then. “How do you like working at _Verdant_? Is Tommy a crazy boss?” he asked, disproving the theory that the other man had never noticed him as the club before, because he hadn’t said anything about his job and Thea hadn’t either.

 

“Nah, he’s cool,” Roy replied, pretending he didn’t see one and two equaling four instead of three in Missus Queen’s eyes. “And the club’s great. Far as I know everyone likes it there.” He hesitated a second then kept going when everyone else just kept watching him. “Some are a bit nervous in the Glades, but the beefed up security’s hard for anyone to miss.” He shook his head and looked at Oliver then. “And I don’t know how you got the Russians to make everyone play nice around there, too, but it’s definitely helped.”

 

“The Russians?” Oliver blinked, but with the suspicious looks both his mother and sister sent his way that was hard to believe. “What? You mean like the mob? Tommy hasn’t said anything about any problems with them.”

 

Roy rolled his eyes. “He won’t have problems, ‘cause word on the street is the nightclub and the whole are around it’s protected,” he hesitated a second, then just let himself ask. “You didn’t pay them off?”

 

That was what everyone assumed had happened. It was what usually happened—and about the only way any business could succeed in the Glades. And _Verdant_ was both successful and backed by the Russian mob for some reason. If not money, then what?

 

Oliver shrugged, the careless gesture so unlike the serious frowns and hard handshake of earlier that it almost looked fake. “I paid a lot of money to some Russian guy for his help with something a little while back, but it’s probably not anything like that.”

 

“Maybe they just like bringing business into the Glades,” Felicity suggested helpfully, her shrug looking more natural as she sipped her wine. “Business brings in money after all.”

 

“Perhaps,” Moira allowed, still looking a little doubtful.

 

“My security detail has not noticed any problems near the nightclub,” Nyssa said then, drawing a few blinks her way. “And they are very thorough.”

 

“Yes, they are,” Felicity agreed, sounding a little amused for some reason. “And here come the appetizers!”

 

Thank god, Roy couldn’t help but think. He still wasn’t sure why anyone would want to eat leaves, but then he’d never really been into salads, either. His old man had always called them rabbit food and his mom had only made them when she was trying to lose weight. But a boy from the Glades never turned down food, so he’d try it.

 

And no matter how much chewing was going to hurt at least he’d have a good excuse to keep his mouth shut more. Manners and all that…

* * *

NEXT: _Follow the Money_.

_Felicity has a lot of problems to deal with._

_Somehow Starling City’s Vertigo epidemic is the easiest…_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Like I said, I wanted more from this scene. There was so much build up to it that it seemed to demand it. This, however, was the best I could do for now.  
> I don’t actually like writing about people eating, ironically. I think it’s a carryover from ‘you’re not supposed to talk with your mouthful’ making it harder for me to write convincing dialogue. And yes, that thought made it into Roy’s head, too. It sounded like him, so there it is.  
> Maybe my muses will strike with more inspiration when I go back through the final story for revision. A few scenes have appeared in earlier stories that way.  
> Anyway, I hope all of you enjoyed it. Ideas for extending it would be welcome, along with all other constructive criticism, curious comments, off-the-wall ideas etc. are ALWAYS welcome! And really, they DO help me keep going on this story/series whenever I run into writer’s blocks. Something that seems to be happening a lot of late, so help of any and all kind is immensely appreciated.  
> (HINT! HINT!) ;-D  
> As always, thanks for reading! More to come soon!  
> ~ Jess :-D


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